


A New Pet

by JordanGrant



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: BDSM, Bondage and Discipline, Dominance, Dubious Consent, M/M, Masturbation, Multi, Sexual Coercion, Slavery, arguably insane Harry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-15
Updated: 2013-03-15
Packaged: 2017-12-05 10:23:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/721980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JordanGrant/pseuds/JordanGrant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco gets more than he bargained for when he kidnaps Sirius and locks him into a collar that keeps him in Animagus form. Or does he? After all, Malfoy always was more than a little bit obsessed with Potter...</p>
            </blockquote>





	A New Pet

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Padfooted Challenge on LJ in response to the prompt: "Collars. Draco. A new pet."
> 
> This story branches off from canon at the end of OotP and presents an entirely new ending to the war, along with a VERY different aftermath. 
> 
> Acknowledgements: Thanks to Regan_v for the beta! Mistakes that may remain are mine alone.

Padfoot growled menacingly and bared his teeth, yanking his neck in a vicious ark as he struggled to free himself from the leash tethering him to the wall. Again and again he strained, the thick leather collar about his neck almost strangling him, but it was no use. Strong as he was, he couldn't snap the leash. All he was managing to do was exhaust himself.

As if he hadn't done _that_ already, trying time after time to transform back into Sirius Black. He could feel the power inside him, could feel magic itself flowing through his veins, ready to be unleashed into a fury of metamorphosis that would lengthen his lower legs and flatten fur into skin... but it was no use. The power was there, but something was blocking it.

For the moment, at least.

Crouching close to the stone floor, Padfoot panted for a while, his long red tongue hanging slack.

But since it wasn't in him to just give up, the moment his energy came roaring back, he lay his head on his front paws and set to work gnawing at the tough leash. _Blech._ It tasted foul. Rank. Like something too long dead, something soaked in poisons and left out in the sun to dry and wither.

"It's _charmed,_ you stupid hound," said a voice from above him. "You can't chew through it."

Padfoot's head snapped up, his gaze assessing the sheer granite walls around him, seeking out the owner of that voice. He was still entirely alone. The door hadn't opened; nobody had Apparated in. 

High up in one of the walls though, was a small barred window, and behind the bars, a face he recognized.

_That damned Malfoy brat._

Saying a phrase like that out loud these days was bound to garner an argument, Padfoot knew. Officially, Draco Malfoy was a _Hero of the Second Voldemort War._ It even said as much on the young man's very own Chocolate Frog card. And _Witch Weekly_ had no end of praise for the brave youth who had defied his father and his heritage, who had, "in a remarkable gesture of good-will towards all decent wizardkind, offered his wand, his services, his very life, into the care and keeping of Albus Dumbledore, asking only one thing: that he be allowed to assist in whatever capacity, however menial, in the great work of ridding the world of evil."

Horseshite, every last word of it.

Padfoot would know. He'd been there, crouched at Harry's side, arching into his leg as Harry scratched behind his ears, when the Malfoy brat had strode into the headmaster's office as though he owned it, and in front of Dumbledore, Snape, and McGonagall, had done his best to dictate terms.

"Voldemort's going to lose," he'd begun, glancing derisively to the side when Snape sucked in a harsh breath at the use of the Dark Lord's name. "Oh, grow up. If Potter can call him that, so can I. Now, as I was saying. Voldemort's going to lose, and I'm not about to lose right alongside him. I'll help you kill him but I expect to be compensated for my trouble. Well-compensated. Malfoy estates and holdings to remain mine no matter what can be proven against my parents. An Order of Merlin, first class, when it's all over. The overt public support of each and every one of you." The Slytherin had given a dry laugh. "You're all witnesses to my redemption, don't you know."

"You're a seventh-year student. A veritable _whelp_ ," Snape had sneered. "And now that your parents are both dead at the Dark Lord's hand, you're realising how very precarious his service can be. You're in no position to make demands."

"And you're in no position to refuse my aid," Draco had sneered right back. "You had a good run as spy--or was it lackey? The way you toadied and sniveled, it was hard to tell the difference. But now that _that_ glorious chapter of your life has met its end, whatever will your precious Order do for information?" Stepping closer to Snape, the tall, blonde youth gave a smarmy smile. "And you do so need some _intelligence,_ don't you, Severus?" Draco's hand stroked Snape's sleeve from shoulder to wrist, his fingers lingering near the place where the Dark Mark lurked beneath a thick layer of fabric. "You're so close now to utter and complete defeat. And we can't have that, can we?"

"Get away from me!" roared Snape, simultaneously stepping back and shoving Draco away.

Draco had stumbled, but righted himself without difficulty. 

"Really, Mr. Malfoy!" McGonagall had gasped, her eyes bright with condemnation.

"The Potions Master and I have some history we won't soon surmount." Draco had shrugged, his silver eyes uncaring.

"Is Voldemort going to lose or isn't he?" Harry had said with a large measure of scorn. "One minute he is, and the next minute you say _we're_ the ones close to defeat. You seem to be having trouble making up your mind!"

Draco had stepped close to Harry then, looking down on him in a way that made Padfoot's ears flatten back. "Of course he's going to _lose_ , Potter. I'm going to make sure of it."

"And your motivation for this remarkable change of heart, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's shrug appeared careless as he turned toward the headmaster, but Padfoot could smell caution on him. The brat was weighing every word and gesture, just like the Slytherin he was.

"Well, the fact that he fed my mother to Nagini _while she was still living_ might have a bit to do with it."

Beside Padfoot, Harry had flinched, his leg knocking against the dog's head. Padfoot nuzzled it a bit and made a low noise of comfort in his throat. Not that Harry cared a whit about the fate of Narcissa Malfoy. He just didn't like to hear about Nagini eating people. Never had, not since Voldemort had threatened to feed Harry himself to the giant snake.

"And then there's the matter of _Cruciatus,_ " Draco had gone blithely on, just as though he wasn't saying things about his father that any normal son would find horrendous. "Fifteen continuous hours of it, I'm given to understand. He only stopped when my father's nerves had liquefied. Then the beheading. Lucius deserved better than that for his loyalty."

"Are you here for revenge, Mr. Malfoy?" Dumbledore's eyes were intense as he asked that, but for once, not twinkling in the least. "Or are you here because you've seen at last just how perilous it can be to follow behind a man gone mad with power?"

Another careless shrug. "Both, I expect."

"This is ludicrous." Harry's whole body had stiffened. "It's a trap. And why should we trust you? Not even Snape thinks you're worth dealing with, and he's your Head of House!"

Draco had given an exaggerated sigh. "So naïve. So very Gryffindor, in fact. This boy makes me really worry for the side of Light." His voice had hardened. "The fact that the lot of you can't stand me shouldn't preclude our reaching a mutually beneficial arrangement. After all, I'm not the only one in this room with whom Severus has a long history of enmity."

With that, Draco had stared straight down into canine eyes, his own silver gaze plotting something.

Something Padfoot didn't like, but that hadn't made any difference in the end.

For Albus, against all advice, had accepted the Slytherin boy's offer of aid and had bound the whole Order to its terms. As long as Draco supplied them with accurate and useful information, they were each and every one enjoined from speaking out against him after the war. They were commanded to _support him publicly_ , as the boy had demanded, and what was more, they were required to uphold his claim to the vast Malfoy holdings. 

_Whelp_ was right, Padfoot had thought at the time. 

And yet even a magically binding contract signed by the entire Order hadn't been good enough, not for Draco Malfoy.

"I want _his_ signature binding all of yours," Draco had snarled, pointing an imperious finger straight at Harry. "He can be the guarantor, Gryffindor that he is."

Harry hadn't understood, not until his Head of House had quietly explained, and then he'd exploded, "You're _mental,_ Malfoy! You think I'm going to agree to hunt down and kill any member of the Order who tarnishes your precious reputation when all is said and done?"

"Kill probably is a bit strong," Draco had mused, looking Harry up and down, contempt lacing his every word. "You've only got it in you to kill one man, after all. Fine. Denounce, we'll say. You'll set the full power of your name against any Order member who dares besmirch _mine._ That will do well enough."

"No."

"You _need_ me, Potter

"I need you to rot in hell."

McGonagall had broken in, her strict no-nonsense voice stridently demanding, "Outside with you, Mr. Malfoy, and we'll discuss the matter."

Draco had sauntered out, his stride oozing confidence, and it had been all Padfoot could do not to tear him from limb from limb. But Harry's life was on the line. It was kill or be killed, the prophecy made that much clear enough. What if the Malfoy brat _could_ bring them a piece of intelligence that would make that crucial bit of difference? However onerous Draco's terms, Harry's life was worth them.

And that, indeed, was the argument Albus advanced the moment the silencing wards were up, Severus doubling and trebling the protective measures as his features convulsed in rage. Like it or not, the Order needed another inside man now that the Potions Master's history of spying was known. And was it so very much, what Draco was asking? All he wanted was the confidence that after the war, he wouldn't be punished for his parents' crimes. And to gain that, he would put himself in mortal danger. Severus had barely escaped with his life; Draco Malfoy might not even survive to reap the benefits of the arrangement he'd proposed. 

"We should be so lucky," Harry had said in a sour voice as he'd petted Padfoot. "Anyway, I don't care how much danger Malfoy walks straight into; we can't trust a word he says, simple as that."

"Of course we can't," Albus had said with that beatific smile he favoured. By then, his eyes _were_ twinkling. "We'll tell him nothing of our own plans, of that you may be assured. And his own information will be verified by the strictest means before we rely on it. But Harry, I think you may be overlooking one fact. Draco never has taken the Mark."

"He'll have to--"

"And so it is no great wonder that he demands such strident assurances from us. He'll take the Mark in our service. It is so much for him to ask that it never be used against him?"

And so, persuaded by Dumbledore that it was the best course of action, Harry had finally agreed to everything, even to the extreme of making himself the absolute guarantor that all other members of the Order would support and defend Draco's good name after the war.

"But _only_ if you never aid and abet _him_ instead of us," Harry had snarled, writing that in by hand before he would sign the binding contract. "Only if you never once bring us false intelligence. Only if you behave your damned self for once, Malfoy."

"I'm about to go into the viper's nest," retorted Draco, signing as well. "For _you,_ you ungrateful little snot _._ You might consider wishing me luck, you know."

"You don't need luck; you need a conscience! You aren't doing shite for me. You're here for safety and money and _revenge_."

"Oh, and I suppose Voldemort killing your parents has nothing at all to do with your own little vendetta, eh?"

"I'm going to do what needs doing, nothing else!"

"And so am I." 

As it turned out, though, Draco had fooled them all, Padfoot included. Oh, the Malfoy brat wasn't suicidal enough to betray the Order and bring the wrath of Harry Potter down upon his silver-blond hair. He did the job he'd promised and kept to the terms of that binding contract, every last one.

He just didn't go into the _viper's nest_ to do it. Far from placing himself in danger, he never even took the Mark.

He'd had plans all along, plans he hadn't even developed himself. Still riding his father's coattails to the end, Draco had taken advantage of a spell Lucius had developed, one which let him eavesdrop through the Dark Mark itself. No matter that it required a mark to make it work; Draco had that covered. Lucky thing for him his father's remains hadn't been burned, or fed to Nagini. They'd been delivered to Draco for burial, perhaps as a pointed hint to the boy about the penalty Voldemort exacted for disobedience.

A tactical error on Voldemort's part, as it turned out. 

Draco had cut off his father's forearm and kept it, though the rest of the body was buried with the grandeur and solemnity that befitted a Malfoy. 

The minute his father was six feet under, the brat had cast an anti-putrefaction spell on the severed arm, and then had cast one other spell, one Lucius had taught him.

The eavesdropping spell. 

Lucius had devised it in secret and used it to his own advantage, never letting Voldemort know he possessed such a potent weapon. He used it to determine that Snape was in fact a spy. He'd denounced the Potions Master to Voldemort, who had afterwards tricked Snape into carrying no end of false leads to Dumbledore. Snape was too good a spy to have let that go on for long, though. He'd tried to turn the tables and convince Voldemort that Lucius was in fact the spy, but it hadn't worked.

Snape had been trapped at a Death Eater meeting, slated for certain death, but the Order had found a way to bring him out. 

He couldn't spy again after that, but he was a valuable member of the Order, attending all meetings so he could provide his incisive if sarcastic input. Snape's true loyalties were beyond question, but that mark still marred his arm. No-one in the Order, not even Albus, realised the implications of that.

But Lucius did. Using his eavesdropping spell, he was able to listen in on every last Order meeting, and pass all their plans onto his master. Lucius had singlehandedly turned the tide of war against the side of Light. 

Voldemort, though, wasn't called a madman for no reason at all. Instead of clinging fast to the one true advantage he had, he'd decided that Lucius' information was just a tad too good. He began to suspect a coup might be in the works, and applied his skills as a Legilimens to the matter of what might be in Lucius' mind. He ought to have known that a Malfoy's first loyalty was to himself. 

Lucius and Narcissa hadn't survived another day.

And Draco was left with the Dark Mark, though not one on his own arm. Lucius was dead, but his mark was alive, and would remain so for just as long as Voldemort lived. 

And through it, Draco could listen in on any room where Snape--or any other Death Eater--happened to be. 

He'd used it to listen in as Dumbledore and Harry had argued. And he used it frequently thereafter. Every time Voldemort met with one or more of his minions, Draco was there in spirit though not in body.

Of course he could have just as easily spied on the Order as on Voldemort. Having seen what Voldemort did to his parents, however, he'd chosen the side of Light. It wasn't altruism or conscience on his part; it was simple self-interest.

Nobody in the Order liked him, or bore him the slightest respect, but he had technically kept to the terms of his bargain, so they kept to the terms of theirs, even though Draco Malfoy never had exposed himself to the kind of danger that was supposed to be _his_ sacrifice for the cause.

It rankled.

It bothered Harry most of all, because with his fame as the Slayer of Voldemort, he was pestered endlessly with questions about the war and the final battle, and Draco's name would inevitably arise. Gryffindor that he was, Harry would grit his teeth and smile for the cameras and blather out the requisite words of praise and gratitude, but it hurt him to say such things. 

Padfoot could tell.  

Well, at least Draco's eavesdropping was finally at an end. With Voldemort's demise five years earlier the magic woven through the Dark Mark had dissipated, and Draco could no more listen through it now than he could mate with a mermaid.

Not that it mattered much now. Snape was the only former Death Eater not in Azkaban, and he'd become the very definition of reclusive. Padfoot--or rather, Sirius--had only caught sight of him once or twice in the past five years, a circumstance which neither Snape nor Sirius was objecting to. 

A creaking sound broke across Padfoot's contemplations, then, and the dog glanced sharply up, his keen eyes assessing the situation. The door, made of heavy wooden planks banded together with strips of iron, was swinging open, and through it came the Malfoy brat. It didn't matter to Padfoot that the Slytherin was a man now, fully grown, his hair now as long as Lucius' had ever been. 

He'd never be anything but the Malfoy brat, to Padfoot and Harry both. 

Padfoot lunged again, pulling the collar so tight he thought he'd strangle, coming within an inch of sinking teeth into flesh and hopefully bone, though of course at some level the thought of Malfoy blood on his tongue was beyond disgusting. Even dogs had standards.

Draco didn't even flinch as the enormous dog with teeth bared flew towards him. In fact, he laughed, a low sound signalling desires finally fulfilled. Desires that had been far too long denied.

The sound startled Padfoot and confused him, for what could Draco want with Sirius Black in Animagus form? He'd done his part; he'd kept to that infernal agreement reached so long ago at Hogwarts. He'd smiled before the cameras and detailed the daring exploits of Draco Malfoy; he'd testified no fewer than three times at official tribunals as to the value of the information Draco had brought the Order. He'd nodded his approval at the decision that war victims would receive not one Galleon from Malfoy holdings, since Draco's honourable service far outweighed all his parents' crimes combined.

He'd nodded even though his stomach had churned with acid, because the alternative was worse, wasn't it? Sirius wasn't about to put Harry in the painful position of having to denounce him. And Draco had known that all those years ago, damn his black soul. He'd known that with their Harry as guarantor, not a single Order member would dare go back on his word. 

Ever.

"So you've no doubt discovered by now that you're stuck in canine form," said Draco now, smiling in a way Padfoot truly didn't like. "If I were you--oh, but I'm so glad I'm not you, Black--I'd get used to it. That collar isn't coming off, ever."

Padfoot lunged again, though by then he knew it was hopeless. 

Draco apparently found his antics amusing, for that self-satisfied laugh filled the dungeon room again. Padfoot flinched when the wizard drew his wand, but all Draco did with it was transfigure a stray bit of fur into a wing backed chair, complete with footstool. Seating himself with easy grace, the Slytherin put his feet up and smiled, his wand tapping against his thigh when he began to speak. 

"Now, you're probably wondering why you're here. Well, it's very simple, really. Snape betrayed my father. Tried to convince Voldemort it was Lucius who was the spy. And that lie planted the seeds of doubt that eventually got my father _killed_. So the way I figure it, Snape as good as killed him."

Draco studied his well-manicured nails for a moment. "Now, I'm not fool enough to think I can do anything about _that._ Snape's probably beyond my reach. But ever since the war, I've been asking myself why Snape escaped that night when Voldemort was set to torture and kill _him_ for disloyalty. And you know what, Black? The answer always comes back to you."

Padfoot barked long and loud to announce his objection to that. The whole Order had helped save Snape that night when his death looked so certain. Padfoot had been just one of many.

"Oh, but it does," said Draco in a smooth voice. " _You_ were the one who got through the wards so they could be dismantled from the inside. You'd think Voldemort would have been a bit more wary of animagi, considering he had Pettigrew underfoot all the time, but then again, clear thinking never was his strong suit. Or else he'd know that executing my parents would gain him nothing but a dangerous enemy in me."

Leaning down, Draco curled his lips back in a snarl. "But it wasn't just the wards, Black. You provided the crucial distraction for Snape's rescue when you bounded through the clearing and bit Voldemort straight on the arse. Oh yes, I heard all about it from my father, and we never did think it was a mere _dog_ who'd attacked that night. We knew all along that it was _you_. We didn't even need to eavesdrop through the mark to know that much. You always have had quite a bit of mangy hound in you." The blond man laughed. "Even your mother knew as much. One look at you and she named you after the Dog Star, after all."

Padfoot flattened back his ears and growled.

Laughing again, Draco settled in against the back of his chair once more, and rearranged his ankles on the footstool. "Oh, go ahead and growl. You think you're angry now? Wait until you hear the rest of it. Because you see, while it's true that I'm going to punish you for helping Snape escape with his worthless life, there's something else I'll get out of this. Something positively delicious." He paused for effect, letting the silence surround them like thick fog, then smiled in a way Padfoot truly didn't like. "Potter."

The dog crouched against the floor narrowed his eyes to consider that.

"Oh yes, you heard me right," said Draco in a rather oozing tone. "I've often asked myself what would hurt Potter, hurt him so deeply that he'd think on it and suffer every day for the rest of miserable life. And the answer wasn't so very hard to divine, was it now? Until you came back through the Veil in the middle of sixth-year, he was a mess. A complete mess." Draco's voice grew contemplative. "The one time in my life I've been truly happy... But then _you_ showed up again, and he became disgustingly cheerful. I'd like to see him back the way he was for those six months when he thought you were dead."

Feral, the Slytherin man's smile now. "But this time, you'll be worse than dead, Black. First you'll go missing for an extended time. I imagine that will bother Potter quite a lot. I wonder if he'll even give up on his oh-so-selfless ways and use his fame for once. Do you think he'll contact the _Prophet_ and ask their help to locate his dearly beloved godfather?"

Padfoot barked five times in quick succession. 

Draco elegantly crossed one ankle over the other. "You really should have registered your Animagus form, Black. But it's too late now. I've got your paw print on a document of my own, and when I'm tired of Potter's woeful face, I'll deliver the _coup de grace._ " 

Reaching a hand into a deep pocket of the robes he wore, Draco casually drew forth a scroll of paper, which he unrolled with a flourish and a smile of false sympathy. "Oh, but you can't read in that form, can you? I expect that'll be most inconvenient. Well, if Potter gives any tearful interviews I shall be sure to read them too you, post-haste. As for _this_..." A wicked smile lit up his face. "It's an ownership certificate. In keeping with my hero's image, I rescued you from life as a stray on the streets. You're my _pet_ , Black, and my pet you'll stay. When I tire of Potter looking forlorn I'll enjoy him looking angry instead. For you see, there's nothing he can do about the matter, nothing at all. I've arranged it so you can't possibly transform, and as you've never registered yourself as an Animagus, there's no proof you _are_ one. Oh, Harry will protest that and offer himself up for Veritaserum testimony or some such nonsense. Hmm, perhaps even _Severus_ will be willing to vouch for you. Wouldn't that be interesting. Though of course I expect he's much more likely to simply let you remain a dog, even my dog. You two never did get past the old enmity, did you? Pity. But when it comes to Potter's demands to have his godfather back, I'll simply claim he's mistaken. _You're_ just an ordinary dog, albeit rather large, and all the wizards in the world won't be able to sense anything magical about you. 

"In fact, I rather suspect Potter will become an object of ridicule if he presses his claim. Which he will no doubt do, more fool him. Imagine it, Black. Imagine it like the average wizard will. Won't it be deliciously pathetic when Harry Potter goes about insisting that mydog simply must be his lost godfather? People will remember then, his vast depression when you went through the Veil. They'll think he's lost his mind again, and you _know_ how it bothers him when people think that. Or pity him. A bit of lace on the robes for me, eh? So, there you have it. I think it's an all-around smashing plan. What do you think?"

Padfoot narrowed his eyes, flattened his ears, and howled.

"Oh, you'll get used to it. I don't mistreat my pets, you know," said Draco with a wicked glimmer in his eyes. "I didn't mean I'd _beat_ you when I said you were here to be punished. Where's the challenge in that? I could whip that hide of yours to shreds and you wouldn't be able to do a thing to stop me.

"No, it will be much more interesting to turn you into more of a dog than I dare say you've ever been. You'll have to earn your keep, of course. You know, _sit up, beg, roll over..._ and a few other more... shall we say, _creative_ commands. Things you'll hate, and I'll love. I've no doubt you'll please me in the end."

At that, the large black dog growled. 

"Hmm, you know I think we could have quite the conversation, after all," mused Draco as he stood up and stretched. "You appear to understand what I've said. I wasn't sure you would. But your human mind is intact, somewhere in there? That's all to the good. Why don't we say we'll use one bark for yes and two for no. And bear in mind, Black, I'll expect you to bark yes a great deal more than no. I don't tolerate uppity animals in my home."

Padfoot barked three times, just to show the Malfoy brat that he wouldn't play this game.

"Oh, dear. Well, I suppose that should mean no more food or water until tomorrow, Black. Hmm, I suppose it won't do to keep calling you that. And I'm not about to name you _Padfoot_ or, Merlin forbid, _Snuffles_. So... how about Loki, eh? Because I'm wise to you; I know you'll get up to as much mischief as you can. And I'll thwart you at every turn. You know, I think I'll quite enjoy our games, quite apart from the benefit of making Potter suffer every day for the rest of his life, or the knowledge that sooner or later you'll wish you'd left Snape to be the one Voldemort tortured and killed. _Au revoir,_ Loki."

The door thudded closed, but Draco didn't bother to bolt or lock it. There was no need to. Padfoot couldn't reach the door. And even if he could, he couldn't open it, not with paws.

Padfoot howled once more, then set to work again gnawing at the leash that was keeping him confined.

***

"So, are we in a better mood this morning, Loki?" asked Draco in bright tones as he strolled into the dungeon cell the next morning. "Potter doesn't appear to have realised yet that you've gone missing, more's the pity. I suppose you two weren't as... _close..._ as I had suspected, eh? I should have known Potter was as vanilla as ice cream. But _you..._ had more than your fair share of boyfriends, haven't you, now? You've been a bit of a slut, in fact. Well, you'll have to get used to limiting yourself to one partner, now, but you can't tell me that any of the rest of my plans will shock you unduly. I know full well you must have taken advantage of your animagus form to experiment with... _doggy-style,_ shall we say."

A night without food, water, or much rest hadn't improved Padfoot's temper, but it had given him time to consider his strategy. He couldn't transform any more than he could break the leash or collar holding him captive, so his only real chance to escape depended on catching Malfoy off-guard. It meant acting the part of the loyal pet for a time... might even mean acceding to the brat's horribly unsubtle sexual plans, but the rewards would be worth the sacrifice. 

Voldemort wasn't the only evil git who was going to find one of his arsecheeks gnawed clean off.

"What, nothing to say?" taunted Draco. 

Padfoot barked once, and wagged his tail.

"Oh, _that's_ a bit much to swallow this early in the game." Draco circled the large dog, staying carefully out of attack range. "You think I'm stupid, Loki? But that always was the problem with Potter and his sycophants. You all thought I was less than I was. But I fooled you all, didn't I? What Severus Snape accomplished is nothing to what I did. _He_ had to take the Mark in order to spy on Voldemort, and even then, he could only observe that which he was permitted to observe. _And_ he had to put up with Voldemort in the flesh, with all _that_ implies. It's rather astounding you all could think I was so foolish as to follow in his dubious footsteps, but I suppose that goes back to your own dismal level of intelligence." Draco laughed. " _Order of the Phoenix_ , indeed. If not for me, the lot of you would all be dead or worse by now. _Slayer of Voldemort..._ Ha. _I_ was the one who won the war. _I_ got Potter close enough to strike. But you all begrudge me my fame and wealth, I know you do. If not for that contract binding Potter to make the rest of you behave, you'd have tossed me to the Basilisks."

Stopping suddenly, Draco took a moment to regard the large dog, who was still wagging his tail. 

"Hmm, well this could be amusing, I suppose." Draco curled his lips. "Let's see how long your good-doggy act lasts, shall we? I suppose you know all the standard tricks. Obedience training is ever so much more simpler when a dog knows English. So.... roll over on your back, then."

Padfoot dropped to the stone floor and rolled, holding his paws bent and in the air as he turned his head to keep an eye on Draco. The position was vulnerable, and he was all-too-aware that Malfoy might have ordered it just in order to hurt him. 

But all Draco did was watch, his silver eyes assessing everything. 

"Good boy, Loki," he finally said, and tossed something into the air above him.

Padfoot flinched and spun onto his feet again, expecting a hex to come raining down.

But it was a dog biscuit, and not the Muggle kind, either. _This_ was rich with meat and flesh charmed to stay fresh. Padfoot wolfed it down, looking up expectantly and wagging his tail again.

"Oh, _interesting,_ " breathed Draco. "You want another, I expect. Well, roll over on your back again--"

Before he'd even finished the command, Padfoot was in position, tongue hanging out.

"Eager." This time Draco didn't throw the biscuit. He stepped forward instead, doggy treat in hand. "You'll behave yourself if you want this," he cautioned. "No nipping, not even a growl. You're still collared and leashed, you know, and the house-elves have strict orders to leave your fate entirely to me. Nobody else is going to feed you, Loki, or give you so much as a drop to drink. Bite me and you'll have to wait until I'm feeling charitable, which could be a long, long time. Get me angry _enough_ and I'll have you fixed."

Padfoot went still, considering that.

"Mmm, upped the odds a bit, didn't I? You weren't expecting that... well, it just goes back to the idea that you're not nearly as smart as you think you are. Yes, you'll be a good doggy now, won't you?"

Draco grinned in a way that showed off every one of his straight, white, perfect teeth. 

* * *

At first, all Padfoot had wanted was for the Malfoy brat to get within mauling range. Draco's threats changed all that. Being deprived of food and water, after all, wasn't going to help him stay alert to watch for any chance to escape. And being _fixed..._ well, that obviously wasn't in the cards, either.

So Padfoot bided his time, and played the role of pet. At first, it wasn't terribly daunting. _Sit up, roll over, beg..._ just as Draco had promised, Padfoot became a good little pet. He even wagged his tail and sort of bounced whenever his master entered the room.

It wasn't long before Draco got close enough for Padfoot to bite. He even started feeding him by hand, those long pale fingers holding out one of those delicious dog biscuits. 

_So tempting, to take the brat's hand right off his wrist._

Tempting, but out of the question. 

His life became a routine revolving around Draco's frequent visits, the confines of his world reduced to four stone walls, one small window, and one out-of-reach door. After years in Azkaban, it should have all been familiar, but it wasn't. His time behind the Veil had healed him, somehow... but this new incarceration was beginning to turn his mind towards a dark place.

A place he'd never thought he'd dwell in, again.

He had no news of the outside world, save that which the Malfoy brat chose to share with him, which at first meant he had none at all. One day blurred into the next, an unending vista of boredom interspersed with bouts of food and tricks. Draco was his only social contact, his sole source of entertainment, as it were, in the midst of his bleak existence.

Padfoot actually began looking forward to the Malfoy brat's visits.

 _Stockholm syndrome,_ he told himself when he was alone, his head pillowed atop his large paws. Unlike in Azkaban, when he'd sunk so far into his canine form that he'd gone months without entertaining a single human thought, _here_ he could still function as a man. Mentally, at least. His memories and intellect were entirely intact. Perhaps they would fade in time; he didn't know. Or perhaps it was a function of the Malfoy brat's charmed collar, the one that was keeping him from transforming back into Sirius Black.

Draco wanted him aware, Padfoot thought.

Why else would he begin, after those first few days, bringing the _Prophet_ and the _Quibbler_ into Padfoot's cell? Draco read at loud to him. At first, articles detailing his disappearance. Articles which recounted the honourable war record of Sirius Black. Articles which, much to Padfoot's disgust, invariably mentioned Draco. 

Then came the offers of reward.

Then, an exposé of a ring of dark wizards who had tried to claim they'd kidnapped Sirius Black and were holding him for ransom. Harry had found a way to track them and had gone in like the Auror he was, wand blazing... _The Boy-Who-Lived to the Rescue!!!_ read the headline.

But of course Sirius was not rescued, though Harry did apprehend every last wizard involved in the fraud.

Padfoot would have thought that article would be enough to show Draco what a dangerous game this was. Harry _would_ come for him. It might take weeks. Months. Years.

But Harry would never give up.

Sooner or later, he'd find a way to locate Padfoot, and then Draco would rue the day he was born. 

Surely the Malfoy brat _knew_ that. He must have.

All Padfoot could think was that Draco Malfoy had to be half-mad.

Or completely mad, perhaps. Certainly, he was not in his right mind at all if he really believed that Harry was going to let a piece of paper hold him back. That ownership certificate would be worthless in the face of the raw, magical power that lived inside Harry.

Harry, who could be the next Dark Lord if he chose. A darker lord than the world had ever seen before... for no one, not Voldemort, not Grindelwald, had power such as Harry Potter possessed. 

Harry didn't want to indulge dreams of world domination, which was just as well. But he _would_ want Sirius Black safe.

And that knowledge, really, was what helped Padfoot continue day to day, struggling to be a _good doggy_ as Malfoy wanted. 

Until, one day, Malfoy suddenly wanted more.

* * *

Draco had alluded to his true desires, of course, early on.

But then he'd ceased all innuendo and had begun to treat Padfoot simply as his pet. A pet he read to. A pet he _talked_ to almost constantly, which made Padfoot realize, for the first time, how lonely Draco Malfoy must be. He was rich and blond and quite strikingly attractive, but it seemed he had no confidante save a dog.

A captured, unwilling dog, at that.

In other circumstances, Padfoot might have felt some compassion. 

Indeed, he might even have felt some compassion in _this_ circumstance, had things gone on as they were. But all that changed one morning when the Malfoy brat entered Padfoot's cell wearing nothing but a silken dressing gown and equally decadent slippers.

He sat down on the wing backed chair where he usually held court with Padfoot, but instead of leaning back and crossing his ankles on the footstool, this time he scooted his arse to the edge and spread his legs wide.

Dark silk flowed away from his thighs to reveal what the fabric had hidden. 

An erection, the veins dark and throbbing, bollocks tense beneath a nice, thick cock.

Padfoot could appreciate a nice cock, of course. Harry had quite a nice one. Nicer than this one, in fact, but Malfoy's wasn't half bad. In other circumstances, Padfoot wouldn't mind licking it, as was obviously the idea. Merlin knew, he'd spent enough time crouched before Harry's spread legs. Harry, who liked to say that there was really nothing like an enormous, strong tongue wrapped all the way around your cock. 

"Well, Loki?" prompted Draco, his cock bouncing slightly as he shifted his hips suggestively forward. "I'm sure you know what to do."

Whining, Padfoot barked twice.

"Liar," accused the Slytherin man. "Potter's sexual tastes may be as plain as _béchamel_ , but then he's _Harry Potter,_ isn't he? You can't tell me _you_ haven't... experimented before this, with what a dog can get up to in bed. Now come bring me off and make it good."

A drop of pre-come glistened at the tip of Draco's cock. Pale, slightly creamy... Padfoot could smell it from where he sat crouched. He started salivating. It _had_ been a long time, after all, and trapped as he was with paws instead of hands, he had no hope of seeing to his own satisfaction. He'd been feeling a bit frisky of late, and the sight of that gorgeous cock--not as good as Harry's, of course, but still damned delicious looking--wasn't helping. 

His balls tightened in anticipation, his prick stirring to life at the sight of that long, beautiful cock just bulging with good things for him...

"You know," Draco said with a sly little smile curling his lips, "you look a bit... _intrigued,_ shall we say. A dog can't really hide such things. Good-sized cock you've got there, yourself. I know you're used to regular sex, Loki. You're just that type. And it's been how long?"

Draco stroked himself as he continued talking, milking more pre-come from his slit. "I know what you're thinking. The whimpering gives it away, Loki. You're worried that you'll never get to shoot your load, ever again. And that would be so very easy to arrange... but I told you, didn't I, that I don't mistreat my pets? If you're good enough to me for... oh, a few months, we'll say, I'll get you a nice furry bitch to fuck. Won't that be nice?" 

Padfoot whimpered, just as Malfoy had said.

"Oh, I know," Draco said, reaching out his other hand to pet the dog who had crept ever closer to his cock. "You'd rather be a man again, and have another man to fuck. Or perhaps you like to take it? I warrant Potter doesn't know about your predilections or he'd not be searching high and low for you. Straight as an arrow... what a sanctimonious prick. But as for _you..._ you're never going to be a man again. You'll come as a dog or not at all, and a bitch is all you'll ever have to fuck." Draco gave a dry laugh, even as he scratched behind Padfoot's ears. "You've had women before; I know you have. I'll pick you a pretty little bitch, I promise you."

As always happened when he spent much time in his canine form, Padfoot could think simultaneously like man and dog. And the picture Malfoy painted was appealing, there was no doubt about that. The longer he thought on it, the more he liked it.

Well, he always _had_ had highly flexible preferences.

"Thick glossy coat and big wide eyes as she barks and begs you to take her..." whispered Draco, smiling.

Padfoot lunged forward, mouth agape, the image too much for him to withstand. 

Draco didn't so much as flinch, which rather irritated Padfoot. He didn't like to be predictable. 

He quickly put that thought from his mind, though, and set to work. He started the way Harry liked it, his long, rough tongue reaching around to lick the back of the Malfoy's balls. One thorough swipe, slowly teasing the tense flesh, then two, then three. Malfoy shivered, and moved his hands to grip the arms of the chair.

Nuzzling his snout in deeper, Padfoot thrust his tongue between Malfoy's arsecheeks, then, and lapped for all he was worth.

His reward was a long, deep groan, Malfoy shifting his hips forward to facilitate the dog's access. 

"Oh yeah," he panted, his voice rough. "Yeah... yeah! I knew you'd be good at this, slut that you are. I bet you've done exactly this with every boyfriend you've had, eh?"

Padfoot merely growled in answer, then backed up slightly and lapped up the puddle of pre-come that was by then pooling on Malfoy's rippling abdomen.

Unexpectedly then, the Malfoy brat reached out a hand and caught him by the scruff of the neck. "No teeth," he moaned, shaking Padfoot slightly. "Not one tooth. Or I'll have you fixed, I swear."

Padfoot barked once.

"I mean it, you hound-"

Again, Padfoot barked once.

Draco relaxed. "Yes, you want your bitch, don't you? I can tell. And you don't want those dogballs lopped clean off, so... go on, then, Loki. What are you waiting for?"

Moving in closer, Padfoot licked the man's cock from base to tip, base to tip, base to tip... setting up a steady rhythm that made Malfoy start thrusting his hips in tempo to the hot, wet licks. "Yes," he moaned, throwing his head back. "Oh, fuck yes. You're good, Loki, so good."

 _Yes, I am,_ Padfoot thought with more than a little pride. _Harry's a lucky man._

Arching his jaws wide, he thrust his jaws around that cock, and lightly pressed down. No teeth--though come to think of it, Harry often liked just a touch of tooth... 

Malfoy, as it turned out, did well enough without. One smooth compression of heated flesh upon his straining cock, and he exploded, grabbing Padfoot by the ears as he came, screaming. 

_Screaming Harry's name._

Well, that was certainly unexpected, Padfoot thought. Not the sudden hush of warm, sticky fluid, of course. It tasted.... good. Not like Harry, but good. 

But the name... that would bear some thinking about.

"Good boy," Draco panted, breathing through his nose, his mouth hanging open, his tongue lolling out much as if _he_ were the dog. Padfoot wanted to laugh, but since dogs can't, he barked instead. 

Ten times in a row.

"Oh, Loki," groaned Draco finally. "I forgot about you for a second. Don't worry, though; I've something nice for you."

Padfoot jerked his head up and down, bouncing on the pads of his feet, excited. A nice furry little bitch like he'd been promised, he thought, forgetting that _that_ had been promised for months hence. A sweet little bitch with golden hair and silver eyes who would spread her back legs and wiggle enticingly and stretch her neck and _howl_ when Padfoot sank his prick all the way to the balls...

But the _something nice_ wasn't a female dog, more's the pity.

"Here you go, Loki," murmured Draco, brandishing his wand. He thrust it back and forth in a jutting motion, one that made Padfoot's problem all the worse. Suddenly he wasn't itching for a bitch to thrust into--though that would be quite nice--but something else. He wanted a hot mouth surrounding his prick, a tongue licking and teasing him.  

Malfoy's mouth. Malfoy's tongue. And Padfoot thrusting madly away while Malfoy choked on dogcock. 

The shaggy black dog felt his balls contract just thinking about it.

A golden plate appeared in Draco's free hand, and then upon it, a bloody steak. Tenderloin, most likely. It smelled divine, but it wasn't what Padfoot wanted. Not even close.

And Malfoy knew it. 

"You have to earn a bitch, you know." Draco smiled, his eyes half-closed. "I will say that was a good start though, Loki. I think I'll start every morning this way, and have you service me at night sometimes, as well. I'll expect you to make it last a bit longer next time. That was enjoyable, but brief. Three, four months of that, and you'll have that bitch I promised." 

The golden plate made a clanking noise as Draco set it on the stone floor. "A real dog, though. No animagus. Maybe she'll birth me a litter of nice pups and I'll give one to Potter to console him." Draco yawned. "Or maybe not. Can you _get_ a bitch pregnant, Loki? Not sure how real a dog you are, but I suppose we'll find out. I'll kennel her down here with you so you can fuck her to your heart's content... assuming, of course, you continue to keep me fully satisfied."

Padfoot lay his head down on his paws and closed his eyes. 

"No sulking, Loki," chided Draco. "You'll get used to things. Now, eat your steak... no? Well, I'll leave it here for you. See you this evening, Loki."

Padfoot opened his eyes then and tried to glare.

Malfoy only laughed. "Oh, don't be so dramatic. You loved it; I know you did." Bending down, he gave the large dog an affectionate pat. "And so did I. I'm going to quite like having a pet."

The door clanged shut, leaving Padfoot trapped by leash and collar. As always.

* * *

After that day, the routine that made up Padfoot's life included daily--or sometimes twice-daily--bouts of sex.

Not that Padfoot ever got any. The Malfoy brat wouldn't even jerk him off, though it wasn't lost on him just how desperately in need of release Padfoot was. He frequently admired Padfoot's straining _dogprick_ , as he put it. 

But never once did he touch it. No matter that Padfoot had just spent a solid half-hour pleasuring _him_... had complied with demands that were growing all the time more specific. 

The Malfoy brat, Padfoot learned, liked being rimmed so much that he could come from that alone, though most mornings and nights he demanded that his cock get plenty of attention, too. And it _was_ a nice cock, and Padfoot did really like it. Too much, since he ended up panting and horny, needing a fuck in the worst possible way.

He started having dreams. Intense dreams of the little bitch Malfoy had promised him, her coat made up of long strands of glossy, golden hair. Funny... as Padfoot he couldn't see colours, but he remembered them intensely. He dreamed in colour, of a sweet submissive bitch who would throw back her head and howl as Padfoot took her.

He learned to his chagrin that he couldn't have wet dreams, though. Were dogs unable? He didn't know. He'd never had any in Azkaban, but then again, while in the fortress he wasn't being unmercifully teased with daily tastes of delicious hard cock and stories of sloe-eyed bitches. 

Time lost all meaning after a while. One day blended into the next without end, his life reduced to little else but time with Malfoy interspersed with time alone. He never even saw a house-elf, let alone another human being.

Until one day, all that changed.

"Let's go for a walk, Loki," Draco brightly announced directly after he'd had pleasure that morning. "You'll like that, won't you?"

Padfoot barked once, and wagged his tail, though he tried not to look too eager. 

Brandishing his wand, Draco performed a few cleaning spells, both on the cell and on Padfoot himself. Padfoot shivered as the familiar sensation of being scrubbed all over tingled across his skin and teeth.

Another incantation filled the air. Padfoot listened closely. It wasn't _Alohomora,_ but it was something fairly similar, he thought. The leash tethering him to the wall dropped to the floor, then. Draco took the free end up in his hand and wrapped it securely around his wrist. "Ready, Loki?"

Padfoot barked once, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "You'll come upstairs with me while I change," said Draco. "But do I need to tell you what will happen if you misbehave so much as once? You're my dog, Loki. _Mine_. And I expect you to act the part. Don't you dare try to run away from me."

Again, Padfoot gave that single bark of agreement.

Draco had smiled, his eyes sparkling with delight. "This should be fun. Oh, great fun," he murmured.

Padfoot didn't understand, not then.

But once Draco was dressed in austere formal robes and they were out in the estate gardens, he began to catch on. 

"London's a bit far to walk," Draco said, still beaming that smile. "I'll Apparate us both. And before you get your hopes up--"

Padfoot barked twice to deny he had any such hopes.

Draco slanted him a wry look. "Right. As I was saying, you'll arrive as Loki, not... anybody else. Although perhaps by now you understand? You'll never be anything other than my pet, ever again."

Padfoot barked once, and waggled his head up and down, then rubbed his head against Malfoy's robed leg for good measure. "Good boy," said Malfoy. "I do like an affectionate dog."

Crouching down for a moment, Draco Malfoy held the leash in one hand and his wand in the other, even as he wrapped his arms about the neck of the large dog. Padfoot sniffed, the scent of elegant cologne surrounding him. 

He could do it now... he was within reach at last, Malfoy's slender white throat bared before him, practically inviting him to rip it out. He could do it so fast that Malfoy would never know what happened, and when the brat's grasp of that leash slackened from shock and blood loss, he could run away, and find Harry, and--

Padfoot lunged, jaws gaping wide, teeth bared...

And found himself abruptly flung back ten feet, the collar about his neck tightening so that he couldn't breathe. 

"You stupid hound." Draco shook his head, then walking forward, murmured an incantation that would return the leash to its normal length. Even so, he was rubbing one wrist as though it had been slightly injured. "That collar's charmed to never let you attack. Though I am impressed it took you this long to find that out. Well, be that as it may, we were going to pick you out that bitch today, but _that's_ obviously off. I've half a mind not to even treat you to a walk."

Padfoot gasped, choking, his paws clawing the grass underfoot as he struggled for air that would not come. Malfoy merely stared at him, impassive.

Finally, in desperation, Padfoot did the one thing that might show Malfoy he was ready to behave.

Flipping over onto his back, he bared his belly and his cock, then tongue lolling out, turned his head to look on his master with beseeching eyes. 

Draco knelt down alongside the suffering dog and lightly scratched at his furred underbelly. Almost absentmindedly, he flicked his wand to loosen the collar slightly. "I should leave you here; I really should. But Potter will be at the Ministry this morning. Another one of those dreary war orphans affairs. I usually don't attend but it seemed the ideal time for you to make an appearance, Loki." Draco loosened the collar again, and reaching out a hand, allowed the dog to lick it in apology. "That's better. You're going to be a good boy now, I know. The children will just love you." Draco laughed. "And when Potter claims you're his godfather... Merlin, what a fool he'll make of himself."

With that, Draco stood up and pulled the leash so the dog would right itself. "Up you go. Now, don't get too excited when you see Potter, Loki. You're my dog, remember." The Slytherin curled his lips in another smile, but this one was cruel. "Forget your place and I swear by Merlin's balls that _yours_ will end up shredded. And Potter won't be able to stop me, so mind your manners."

Draco reached down and grabbed his dog by the scruff of the neck, Apparating them both. 

* * *

Padfoot stretched his neck and strained, looking for Harry, but in the crush of people all around it was impossible.

Draco gave his leash a sharp tug. "Now, now, Loki. Behave yourself. You had the whole walk here to find a nice tree, you know. Now you'll just have to wait."

Determined to appease the brat, Padfoot barked once. 

A little girl no older than six was suddenly before him, her face barely higher than his, she was so short. "Oh, a doggy!" she cried, grinning from ear to ear as she looked up at Malfoy. "Can I pet him, sir? Can I?"

Draco gave a reserved nod.

Padfoot stood quietly while the little girl rubbed her hands all over his face and neck and back. 

"Careful, Marisa, strange dogs can bite," said a woman's voice as hands pulled the tot away. Her tones changed to something close to reverence when she realised whose dog the child had been pestering. "Oh! Mr. Malfoy, how lovely to see you here!"

Draco spoke in a smooth, aristocratic voice. "I do try to support the Ministry's good works; you know that."

"Oh yes, of course," the woman gushed, though Padfoot heard the false sincerity woven through her words. Malfoy didn't do a thing to help with charity, and she knew it, but just in case humouring him would change that circumstance... "So much need these days. So many children. Marisa herself, for example. Her parents killed near the end of the war, just a few weeks after she was born, and we've yet to find a good home for her." She paused, the silence something delicate. "Perhaps you yourself might consider opening your spacious manor to an unfortunate or two....?"

"I think not," said Draco in a voice that invited no further impositions. 

Nodding in polite disappointment, the woman walked away, leading little Marisa by the hand, though she tugged and protested that she wanted to pet the doggy again.

Just as they walked off, a new aroma approached Padfoot. A familiar aroma. Padfoot sniffed the air, his ears pricking up expectantly at the sound of a footstep he recognized.

"Potter," said Malfoy as Harry came into view.

Padfoot barked, only to find the collar tightening once more. He quickly calmed before it constricted enough to cut off his breath. 

Harry looked down at Padfoot, his gaze dismissive. "Where'd you get this great brute of a dog? I figured you were more the Pomeranian type."

Draco's mouth almost fell open, Padfoot saw, but the blond man controlled himself after an instant. "He was a stray on the streets. In terrible shape--"

"So you _do_ know a bit about good works?" Harry laughed, the sound dark. "Didn't help Marisa, did it?"

Draco shrugged, the motion careless. "Ah, well a dog is rather different from a child."

"More work?"

"Less... _enjoyable,_ " drawled Draco, his eyes keenly watching Harry. He was trying to get a rise out of him; Padfoot could tell. When Harry didn't reply, Draco dropped his voice to a low, sensuous murmur. "I thought for certain you would be raising a ruckus by now."

Harry lifted an eyebrow as he moved back. "Oh, _Draco._ I think I know you better than to expect you'd care one whit for poor little Marisa's pitiful life. So you don't want to take her in; what is that to me? _I_ don't care to have my bachelor's existence disrupted either, you'll notice. Though you might consider a donation, you know--"

"I'm not talking about a sodding little girl!" Draco interrupted in a furious whisper. 

Harry, Padfoot thought, looked genuinely puzzled. "Then what?"

Draco pursed his lips, glancing at Padfoot and then away.

Harry suddenly laughed. "Oh, the dog! I'd wondered why you brought one here. Not for the edification of the children, I take it. You wanted _me_ to see." The hero of wizardkind narrowed his eyes. "But why? I'll admit there's a slight resemblance but... really, Draco, you can't have thought I'd be so foolish as to mistake this magnificent animal for my missing godfather, can you? Oh! Perhaps you didn't even realise that Sirius Black was an Animagus?"

Draco shrugged as though he'd never thought about that matter.

"Well, that's what comes from never registering, I suppose." Crouching down, Harry looked Padfoot in the eyes, his own communicating nothing but polite disinterest. "No, I don't know you, do I?" He gave a single pat to the dog's head, then stood back up. "Beautiful dog. Sirius was quite a bit... scruffier. At any rate, that's definitely not the Animagus I was looking for."

Draco's hand clenched the leash. "The Animagus you _were_ looking for?"

"Hmm. I've stopped looking." Harry lifted his shoulders. "You hadn't noticed it had dropped out of the news? Well, I suppose you weren't following it."

Draco went unnaturally still. "Not like you to give up so easily, Potter."

"Oh, I haven't given up, not in the sense you mean. I've simply lost interest."

At that, Draco practically sputtered. "But you were so... disconsolate when he vanished last time, that it, when he went through the Veil..."

"I blame the Veil entirely," Harry said in a tone that was somehow dark and conversational all at once. "Sirius Black came back changed, you see. Not that I knew as much at first. In fact I only recently found out about some of his liaisons, and I can't say I approve at all." The Slayer of Voldemort lowered his voice to a bare whisper. "He had slept with _men_ , you see, and not just once or twice. Made a right practice of it, he did."

"Men," Draco repeated as though rather taken aback.

Harry gave a sage nod. "Oh, yes. Hard to fathom, isn't it? I couldn't believe it at first. _My_ godfather. My _father's_ best friend... one of _those_. I suppose I can't blame him... he _can't_ have been like this when I knew him before. It's the Veil that did it." Harry looked pensive for a moment, but seemed to shrug it off. "Perhaps that's actually why he went missing, you know? He'd realised it was bound to come out otherwise. And I can't have that; I have my reputation to consider! If Sirius hadn't left on his own, I'd have had to repudiate him. And however... _unnatural_ he is now, he still does love me enough to spare me that."

Padfoot started shaking slightly, his body wanting to snicker but unable to. 

Draco glanced down at him, a wry smile on his lips. "Oh dear. Something must have disagreed with Loki."

"Hmm," Harry passively agreed. "Perhaps you'd better get him home." He held out a hand. "It was surprisingly pleasant to chat with you, Draco. I'm sure this won't be the last time we meet."

A photographer snapped their picture as Draco reached out and shook Harry's hand.

* * *

"Oh, stop gnawing that filet and eat it, already," Draco rebuked Padfoot that evening. The Slytherin studied the dog for a moment, then lay back on his bed. "Go on. Or it'll be back to that cell with you. You think I'm the only one disappointed? I expected Potter to mourn you a good while longer! But if he's as bigoted as that there's no point lamenting it, Loki. You're better off with me. Maybe now you'll start to realise as much."

Padfoot flopped to the rug as though in despair. He thought about letting loose a plaintive wail, but decided that would be a bit much.

"Poor Loki... just take a bite? Just one?" Draco gave the leash he held a gentle tug.

Barking half-heartedly, Padfoot shuffled forward to tear off a little bit of meat.

"That's a good boy..."

"That's a man," corrected a hard voice as Harry Potter stepped from the shadows. 

Draco leapt up from his supine position, hurriedly yanking his dressing gown over his spent cock as he snatched his wand from the night-table. "How did you get through my wards?"

"I didn't notice any wards."

Teeth bared, Draco pointed his wand at Padfoot. "So it was all a feint at the Ministry? But _now_ you're exposed, Potter. You care about the mutt or you wouldn't be here! So get out of my house or the dog dies in a flash of green light, just like your beloved parents!"

Harry's voice, low and deadly, cut through the air like a sword. "You kill him and I kill you; it's as simple as that."

"Stalemate." Draco laughed, the sound discordant. 

"Hardly. Slaying a Dark Lord doesn't exactly temper one's powers, Malfoy. Why do you think I didn't notice any wards? Your strongest family magic... and it was like _air_ to me."

"Another feint," Draco sneered, wand still levelled at the dog who by then was crouching, teeth bared. 

Harry smiled, his expression almost pitying. "Why do you think I'm so good at my job? All it takes me is one spell. This one." Draco tensed as though expecting Harry to go for his own wand, but Harry didn't move his hands in the slightest. He merely spoke. One spell, as he had promised.

" _Accio_ Draco Malfoy's magic."

"You can't _Accio_ magic itself, you _arse--_ "

But Harry could, Padfoot knew. Only a few people knew. Sirius Black... the director of Magical Law Enforcement... the Minister herself. Wanting to avoid a panic, they kept the knowledge to themselves through the judicious use of _Obliviate_ on the dark wizards Harry had turned into squibs. 

A noise like rushing wind _whooshed_ through the room as Draco dropped to his knees, his mouth a rictus of pain, his every muscle quivering like jelly. 

Harry walked over to him and picked up the leash he'd dropped as he spoke in tones that were as quiet as they were satisfied. "It hurts, I know. I've lost count of the times I've done this, Malfoy. Everyone from Death Eaters to petty criminals..." he sighed. "Well, what else is there to do? I'll never trust the Dementors again, so Azkaban's not an option." The Slayer of Voldemort shrugged. "Besides, I _enjoy_ that spell." 

Draco's voice came hoarsely. "You... utter... bastard..."

"Yes," Harry agreed, smiling down as Padfoot bounded over to him and rubbed a shaggy head against his thigh.  "Though no more than yourself."

"The contract... guarantor..."

At that, Harry laughed. "Have I broken the contract even once? Well, have I, Snuffles?"

Padfoot barked twice and wagged his tail.

"Oh, sorry Snuffles." Harry turned his back on Draco. In anyone else the motion would have been careless. Overconfident. But Harry truly did have nothing to worry about, and he knew it. He bent down on one knee and unbuckled the collar around his godfather's furry neck, making a soothing noise as he slid it off. Then he reached out with both arms to hug Padfoot tight.

Padfoot licked his cheek, and gave a contented _woof_.

Draco tried to move forward, to attack Harry with his bare hands, perhaps, but all he managed to do was sway on his knees and fall over sideways.

Without the collar binding him, Padfoot felt his own magic surging back to life. He panted, drawing in a few good breaths, then summoned his energies together in a ball of blazing light, deep inside him, and felt himself--at long last--changing back into a man.

"All right, then?" inquired Harry, his tone mild though his green eyes were narrowed with concern. 

Sirius barely heard him. His head was swimming in a way he remembered all too well. It was the colours that did it. Padfoot could remember hues and shades and tints, but the reality was nothing like his faint canine memories. A rainbow blaze, all around him... Harry's beautiful green eyes the centre of it all. _Just like when he'd finally found him after all those years in Azkaban._ Padfoot stared, lost in wonder.

"Sirius," said Harry as he turned the collar over and over in his hands. "You _are_ all right, aren't you?"

"What?" Sirius shook his head much as a dog might, his hair splaying in all directions. It helped, though. "Yes. Good to see you, Harry."

Harry glanced over at where Draco lay moaning on the rug. His lips curled in a contemptuous expression. "Malfoy there didn't hurt you?"

"No." That was the truth, after all. Well, mostly.

"Sure. Draco Malfoy was the soul of mercy, sounds just like him--" With a sigh of exasperation, Harry started over. "Out with it, Sirius. Malfoy there's a nasty evil git and I know it."

"Well, he did choke me but since it was in retaliation for an attempted mauling, I think we're even."

Harry glanced up, his eyes glowing a fierce emerald. " _Even?_ I hardly think so, considering the months that have gone by and the fact that it reeks of sex in here." Those green eyes narrowed. "How many times, Sirius?"

"Too many to count..."

Harry's voice was dry. "I can actually count to quite a high number, you realize." Spinning on a heel then, he turned to confront the fallen wizard, now squib. "Well, Malfoy. Seems I've quite a score to settle with you."

"It was _Draco_ this morning," rasped the other man.

"Yes, caught you off guard, didn't I?" Harry shook his head as he dropped down and reached out a hand to pet Draco's long hair. "You never did understand what you were dealing with in me. I can strategize as well as any Slytherin, and rather better than you, I expect. You must have wondered why I stopped searching for Sirius, but I suppose it didn't occur to you that it was because _that_ was the one way to flush his captor out? I'd concluded by then that _I_ was the real target." Harry stroked a long finger down the length of Draco's high cheekbone. "People used to say I thought the world revolved around me, you know? I didn't understand, not then, that it actually _does_."

Draco made a feeble attempt to bat Harry's hand away, but he could barely lift his arm. "Don't touch..."

"Well _now_ is hardly the time for modesty, Malfoy," said Harry with a gentle laugh as he resumed petting long strands of blond hair. "This is just what I meant about strategy. If you don't want me to touch you, then objecting is hardly your best course of action."

Sirius sank to the floor himself, on the other side of Draco, and gave Harry a rather pointed look. "You want him, don't you?"

A low, delighted laugh rumbled through the room. "Well, yes. He really is too beautiful to resist. I don't blame you in the least of course, for your... _ah,_ indiscretions, Sirius."

"He did threaten to have me fixed, you know."

Harry tilted his head to the side, then slowly parted Draco's dressing gown and shifted it off his shoulders, baring him to the waist. "Yes, I'm sure he did. But I know you, Sirius. You can't tell me that you didn't want this..." Harry made a sweeping motion with his hand, indicating Draco's prone body from head to toe.

"I wanted you more."

"And I you," breathed Harry, leaning forward in invitation.

Sirius wasted no time accepting. Mouth to mouth, lip to lip, tongue dancing with tongue, they kissed long and slow as Draco Malfoy, still unable to move properly, lay three feet beneath their embrace. 

"You're as twisted as he is!" the Slytherin man accused when the two men above him finally broke off, both of them smiling.

Harry glanced down. "And what are you, Malfoy? At least when _my_ dog sucks me off, he does so willingly. I don't have to hold someone captive to get laid. Though you know..." His green eyes darkened in a way Sirius recognized all too well. "That doesn't sound half bad, come to think of it."

"Oh, like the Boy-Who-Lived would--"

"Don't call me that," snapped Harry. "I'm not a boy at all, and neither is _he_ , though I'm sure it's yet to dawn on you. You're dealing with grown men, Malfoy! Grown men who can fuck you through the mattress, and _will_. It's time you found out first-hand that it doesn't pay to fuck with _me,_ Malfoy--"

"Harry..." said Sirius in a warning voice.

"What?" Jumping to his feet, Harry glared at his godfather who had stood up as well. "He's had his fun with you. So we turn the tables, what of it? You can't convince me the idea has no appeal." Harry stepped straight over Malfoy's form and splayed a hand, fingers spread, on the soft fabric covering Sirius' chest. "You licked his cock the way you lick mine, yes? Base to tip, base to tip... slow, making it good, making it last... Well, Merlin knows that the minute after _I_ explode down your throat you can't wait five seconds to transform into a man so I can return the favour! You can't tell me you didn't look at his pink lips with those perfect teeth of his... you can't tell me you didn't think about thrusting yourself long and hard down that slender throat..."

Sirius swallowed, the images Harry called forth too potent and real to resist. _And too accurate_. How many times had Padfoot thought about just that? How many times had Padfoot longed for what Harry was now offering?

"He deserves it," Harry continued...

"You took his magic already--"

Recovering from the sudden loss of it, finally, Draco managed to drag himself over to the nearest wall, where he sat hunched with his arms wrapped around his knees. Sirius noticed, however, that he hadn't bothered to pull the dressing gown back over his shoulders.

"Oh, you do know you're never getting it back, don't you?" asked Harry as he smiled at Draco in a way that was actually frightening. So much desire in his gaze, but power too. And ruthlessness. Harry's anger needed to be slaked, and words alone, Sirius knew, would not be enough.

They were never enough for Harry, not now. 

"Never getting it back--"

"Oh, you won't need it where you're going," Harry assured his prisoner.

Draco's pale face lost all colour as he choked out, "Az- Azkaban?"

"Didn't I just tell you I wouldn't trust the Dementors ever again?" Harry's eyes gleamed. "No. I have something else in mind for you. A more equitable kind of justice, and one which will ensure that you never make mischief again. _Loki..._ now that was clever. Surprising, coming from you."

Draco shrank back further, his silver eyes almost wild with panic. "What- What do you have in mind?"

Harry bared his teeth as though enjoying every moment. "Well, Padfoot's brought you off enough times that I think you ought to return the favour, don't you? And you owe me as well for all the months I had to do without his lovely tongue. We'll... share you, I think. Yes, that'll be lovely. Sirius, what do you think?"

The truth was, by then Sirius barely _could_ think. It was probably the mention of _lovely tongue_ that pushed him over the edge. "I get his mouth."

"Fair enough. His arse will suit me fine... Stand up, Draco."

The blond man rose uncertainly to his feet, his eyes wary now. " _Draco_ again? What trick is this?"

"No trick. I hate to be on a last-name basis with people I'm going to fuck."

Draco flushed a pale pink that Sirius found quite intriguing. "You're _not_ going to fuck me, Potter--"

"Oh, and who's going to stop me? You? Go on, pick up your wand and find out just how useless it is!" taunted Harry. When Draco didn't move an inch, but merely stared at him with transfixed eyes, Harry gave an ugly laugh. "I'm going to fuck you to Mars and back, make no mistake, _Draco_ , and there's nothing anyone can do to stop me. The only person with the guts to even try would have been Sirius. He knows the way to my better nature... but you've fucked yourself there, haven't you? He won't help you. In fact, he wants you too, and it's all your doing!"

Harry moved in closer, pressing himself against the other man. "Mmm, I imagine it will be years and _years_ before we grow tired of you, _Draco_. And really, there's so much more you can do with three than two..."

"I won't let you," moaned Draco, turning his head away when Harry tried to brush their lips together. "I'll fight. I'll _bite_."

"Oh, dear," said Harry in false sympathy. "And what was it you did to Padfoot when he tried to maul you? Oh yes, the collar, that was it. Well, if you might act out, I suppose you'll have to wear it."

With that, he was reaching around Draco's neck and fastening it. Harry tapped it lightly to make it constrict to the circumference of Draco's throat, then tapped it again to make it tighten a fraction further.

Draco soundlessly gasped and raised his hands to claw at it, his fingers scrambling for the buckle.

"It won't come undone," whispered Harry, his hands diving beneath the silk dressing gown to pet Draco's chest. "Ever. My own warding being a... _tad_ stronger than yours. Though I could loosen it a little, if you promise to be good?"

Draco's face was purple as he nodded. 

Harry tapped the collar again, expanding it to a snug yet comfortable size, and waited, watching closely while Draco regained his breath. "I do hope you're getting the idea," Harry finally said. "You'll do as I say, and as Sirius says. And if you don't... well, I'm perfectly capable of having _you_ fixed as you threatened to do to Padfoot... yes, that's sunk in, has it? Oh yes, I imagine you'll be _very_ good to us. At least as good as Padfoot was to you. Now, lose the robe. Let's see if you're beautiful all over."

"He is," Sirius thickly attested.

Harry grinned. "Oh, I've no doubt. Well, Draco?"

Draco bit his lower lip. "You can't do this--"

"Not too fond of oxygen, is he?" drawled Harry, finally drawing his wand. "Do I really need to choke you into submission? If I were you--"

"--and oh I'm _so_ glad I'm not you," put in Sirius.

"I'd think twice about arousing my very worst instincts," continued Harry with a mock glare at his godfather. "Or did you not understand what I was telling you before? Ever since I killed Voldemort..."

With shaking fingers, Draco untied the sash at his waist and shrugged his dressing gown completely off. 

"Mmmm, very nice," murmured Harry, reaching out a finger to stroke Draco's nipples before lowering a hand to his cock. It twitched in answer, but didn't do much else. "No more interest than that? The way you used to look at me sometimes, I thought..."

Sirius never could stand to see Harry disappointed. "He screams your name when he comes."

"Oh, _very_ nice." Harry smiled, his mood obviously much improved. "Can't say as I've ever returned the favour but if you're good enough, perhaps... Well then, onto the bed with you, Draco. Hands and knees, facing Sirius."

"Like a good dog," added Sirius, laughing. 

Draco crawled up onto the bed and held himself on hands and knees, though his position was all wrong. Knees pressed together, tension in every line of his body.

Harry walked to the bed and grabbing the leash still tethered to the collar, stroked it idly across Draco's bare back, tracing his vertebrae. "You didn't beat Padfoot, did you? Tell the truth."

"No," gasped Draco.

"He didn't," Sirius confirmed when Harry looked his way.

"Well, that won't save you," said Harry, flicking the leash lightly against Draco's back in a very gentle whipping motion. 

Draco whimpered, flinching away from Harry's smooth threats.

"But we'll leave that for later," decided Harry. "You wanted his mouth, Sirius? You go ahead. I'd like to watch a while, then join in."

Sirius smiled, wasting no time in chucking off his clothes and climbing into position in front of Draco's face. His long, dark cock was hard and pulsing already, desperate and eager after months of denial, months of torment.

"Well, what are you waiting for, Draco?" asked Harry, tapping his wand against his thigh as he stood there watching. "Open your mouth and take him in."

Even despite the threat of being choked, Draco shook his head. "Malfoys don't--"

But that was all he said. 

Two words, and Sirius was thrusting his hips forward, thrusting his cock to the root, straight past Draco's perfect teeth and over his tongue and down his beautiful throat. Sirius grabbed Draco's hair and thrust again, _harder_ , then suddenly screamed something incoherent as he began pumping out months' worth of repressed libido. 

"Swallow, Draco," Harry dryly advised, though it was hardly necessary with Sirius shooting straight down into Draco's gullet. Rush after rush of sticky fluid... Sirius almost wished he could have exhibited more self-control and made Draco tease it from him, made him taste it...

"Well, that was certainly... _efficient_ ," Harry drawled when Sirius had finished and pulled out, gasping.

"You go without for as long as I did, and see how long you last!"

Harry laughed. "Brat is right. No reciprocity, eh? Ah, but that's because Malfoys _don't,_ I suppose." Still laughing, he lay down on the bed, propping his head up on the pillows, shaking a finger when Draco made as though to move. "No, you stay in position. I'm sure Sirius will be ready for another go-round in a few minutes. Or longer, perhaps; he's not as young as you or I, you know--"

"Shut up, Harry," growled Sirius from where he was relaxing on the other side of Draco.

"Potter, let me get out of this ridiculous position--"

Harry's voice went stern. "No. I'd much rather let you get used to it seeing as you'll be in it quite a bit from now on. Now, what was this blather about _Malfoys don't?_ Malfoys don't let other men use them in the mouth and arse, I suppose you meant? But really Draco... Malfoys _do._ From now on. You'll get used to it."

Draco flinched as though remembering all the times he'd said just that to Padfoot. Sirius thought it served him right.

"Hmm, that cock of yours seems to have a definite opinion about what Malfoys _like,_ at least," drawled Harry, giving the dangling appendage a knowing look. "Seems to have appreciated Sirius' load just fine."

Sirius looked too then, and smiled. Scooting down on the bed, he fondled Draco's cock with the ease born of long practice, enjoying the way it thickened and lengthened in his palm.

"I'm so glad we can share things," sighed Harry. "This is nice."

"The hell it is; I'm not a _thing_ \--"

Harry tapped his finger to the collar, but just in warning. This time, it didn't tighten. "Don't tempt me."

Draco closed his eyes and nodded.

"Better," approved Harry. "Well, I can't wait any longer, I'm afraid. You're a fine one to complain, Sirius, about months and months of deprivation. What did you think I was doing all that while, cheating on you?"

"No, but at least you had two hands and a stack of magazines to enjoy."

"And I didn't have beautiful Malfoy cock shoved in my face twice a day," mused Harry. "All right, you had it worse, I'll admit that. But I did, you'll note, give you first crack at him. My turn." Sitting up, Harry suddenly bent forward and kissed Draco full on the mouth, his tongue lapping at the inside of the other man's mouth. "Mmm, _nice_. You taste like Sirius. Now I _really_ can't wait for my turn down that throat... but for now I'll have your arse. Virgin, I take it? Since _Malfoys don't?_ "

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but remembering the collar perhaps, said nothing.

"What do you think, Sirius?" said Harry, an affectionate hand trailing over his godfather's arm. "Take him dry? Really ream him out inside, make him cry and bleed and beg me to be gentle?"

Draco had never inflicted wanton physical cruelty on Padfoot, Sirius thought. Even the choking had been in retaliation for an attack. Things could have been much, much worse. "No," he said, grabbing Harry's fingers and kissing them one by one. "Use something."

"Oh, good idea." Harry grinned, clearly enthused. "Hmm, there's that spell that'll oil him up but sting quite badly. Or how about the one that'll guarantee me a nice, smooth ride but about three hours from now'll give him the _nastiest_ case of the runs? Though that could prove a bit messy, and he can't just _Scourgify_ himself any longer, hmm..."

Sirius recognized this... the Voldemort's final revenge. His power piled on top of Harry's was so much more than one person should have to withstand that it was a wonder Harry hadn't risen as the next Dark Lord. But what Harry had said was true. Sirius knew how to balance him.

"No," he softly whispered, placing an open-mouthed kiss on Harry's palm. "Use something nice, Harry. For me."

Harry turned and bared his teeth at Draco. "Imagine what I'd do to you if he weren't here. Yes, imagine it. Memorise it, and keep it firmly fixed in mind. You're helpless now. A squib, and we're both powerful wizards, so if you've the slightest smattering of brains in that pretty head of yours you'll do as you're told and keep us very, very happy. But just in case you haven't that smattering, you just remember, _Draco..._ Sirius Black is all that's holding me back from what I'd really like to do to you--"

"Enough, Harry," said Sirius, kissing him on the mouth until he felt his godson's anger start to ease. "He understands. Now take him. You'll feel better afterwards."

Harry nodded, and with a whispered spell caused all his clothes to fall away. 

Draco gasped.

"I tried to tell you his was nice too," said Sirius, smirking. But then, he saw anxiety overtaking the admiration in those silver eyes. He rubbed a friendly hand along Draco's shoulder blades, kneading out a little bit of the tension there. "It'll be all right. I won't let Harry hurt you, you'll see."

Harry's words, in contrast, were down-to-business as he moved into place, kneeling on the bed, his straining cock pointed at Draco's bare arse. "Spread your thighs, Malfoy. Wider... yes, like that. Now, arch your back. Mmm, nice."

Draco suddenly moaned. Sirius couldn't see quite why, but he knew Harry well enough to take a guess. _Ball-tease_ , he thought. Harry did love to nudge the tip of his cock against the sensitive flesh of a dangling sac. It was a good sign that he was doing that to Draco. It was playful, light... an indication that with Sirius' help, he'd once again managed to repress his very darkest desires. 

But that impulse toward sadism still burned bright in his eyes.

Sirius left off rubbing Draco's shoulders to calm him, and moved to hold him steady, instead. Just in case... though what he said to Harry was a quiet, " _Years_ , you said. Imagine how very much more fun we'll have with him if we can make him willing... make him adore this and long for it, make him desperate for us both..."

"Imagine how much fun we'll have if we can make him scream, though..." Harry sighed as his gaze met Sirius' steady eyes. "No? Oh, very well. Not your thing, I know."

"Nor yours, not really," said Sirius, because it was the truth. Harry hadn't been like this, not until his mind had touched the madman's in the final battle and he'd emerged victorious yet scarred in ways the public didn't recognize.

"You're good for me," whispered Harry, who suddenly lifted the leash up high and brought it down in a vicious arc that connected with Draco's bare back. "And you, you be good _to_ me or there's plenty more where that came from. And worse."

Draco froze, a small whimpering noise escaping his clenched lips as a welt rose up along his back. 

"He didn't beat me, Harry," Sirius said in mild rebuke.

"Oh, that was for telling me Ron wasn't worthy to be my friend," returned Harry, who tossed the leash aside then, at last, though Sirius saw him admiring the way it afterwards dangled from the collar Draco wore. Paradoxically, then, Harry leaned over and kissed the mark he'd raised. "Shhh, Draco. You've a lot to make up for, you know. Every insult, every threat, every last nasty thing you did, it's all coming out of your hide... I promise you that. But someday, as long as you take care not to anger me again, I'll have nothing left to hold against you, I promise you that as well. Now quiet, Draco. I'm really quite sure that Malfoys don't cry just because they're beaten."

Sirius wasn't sure if the last word was straightforward or a pun, but either way, the implication that he was weeping seemed to strengthen Draco. 

"Go fuck yourself, Potter--"

"Oh, I won't be pleasuring myself for quite some time to come," murmured Harry. "Sirius and I both would much rather enjoy each other, and you... _Accio_ Draco Malfoy's wand." Catching it deftly in his hand, Harry licked his lips. "This is one particular spell I prefer not to do with my own wand... and you don't need yours any longer, do you now?"

Without warning or preparation then, Harry spread Draco's arsecheeks wide using thumb and forefinger, and thrust the wand tip straight into the other man's tightly puckered entrance.

Draco made a convulsive movement, his lips parted on a scream, but Sirius held on tight. Held him in place... because anything else would anger Harry.

And Draco hadn't seen Harry angry, not yet. Sirius didn't particularly want him to. Sirius had only seen it once, and that was enough to last him ten lifetimes.

"If you're going to scream like that over a slender little wand, I can't imagine what you'll do when you have to take a man inside there."

"Harry," Sirius warned. "Remember, _years_. They could be really good years--"

"Oh, they will be," promised Harry. "For both of us. Speaking of which...?"

"You get started first."

"Well, I suppose it's your turn to watch. Ready, Draco? _Lubrico._ " His wrist made a twisting motion as he pushed the wand in deeper. This time Draco didn't scream, though he did tense. " _Lubrico,_ " Harry said again, then started up a teasing motion with the wand, smoothly moving it in and out of Draco.  

"Not so bad now, is it?" said Harry in a voice that was almost kind. "Go on, Draco, you can talk. I don't like silent bedmates. You'd be wise to keep in mind what I do and don't like, by the way. Well, is it so bad?"

"I... I..."

"Perhaps I ought to warn him that I've never much liked liars and it's in his best interest that I like him? Well, as much as I can, which granted, isn't that much..."

"It's not so bad," Draco blurted, before in a paroxysm of shame, he dropped his face to the sheets to hide it. The position hoisted his backside up a bit more.

"Oh, now that's a nice angle." Harry slowly pulled the wand tip out of Draco's arse. "Now, stay still, Draco, and try not to panic. It's going in again now, wide end first."

"No--" came the muffled protest.

But of course Harry gave the man no real choice in the matter. Draco's hole was well-oiled by then. As Sirius watched, Harry set the wand handle against it and rotated it back and forth, applying firm, smooth pressure all the while, slowly pressing it into Draco's backside, burying it within his body. 

Panting, Draco flung his head to the side, his expression horrible. "Owww...."

"Harry...."

"It can't be helped, Sirius," sighed Harry. "He's tight. Oh, he's going to be _good_.... Would you like to have first crack at this lovely arse? He owes us both but you're really more the aggrieved party."

Sirius let go of Draco with one hand, and gave a careless wave. "I'm sure I'll have plenty of chances to enjoy him."

"Oh, that you will," promised Harry, jabbing the wand forward and yanking it up slightly as he drove it in.

Draco grunted in protest, but almost at once, the noise changed to something both richer and more melodic. 

"Ah, gotcha. There we go, there it is..." Harry thrust the wand in again, keeping carefully to the same angle, and quickly set up a rhythm that Draco began to match with furtive little backwards thrusts. "You like that, Draco?"

"I... I..."

"No lying or I strip the skin right off that back of yours--"

"Yes," Draco hissed, defeated. 

"Mmm, me too," breathed Harry. "I'd like it with anyone, I expect. A man's pleasure really is something else. But with _you..._ having you splayed out like this, hating it even while you love it... gives me chills, it does."

Harry's hand stilled, the wand ceasing all motion. 

Draco groaned, and flailed his head, and began to sink closer to the sheets.

"Oh, no you don't," chided Harry, reaching beneath Draco's belly to lift him back up. "No rubbing yourself off--except on me or Sirius, of course, but we'll get to that. And absolutely no touching yourself. After all, you didn't allow Padfoot any relief, did you now? But we're not so cruel as to deny you a nice climax, actually. You merely have to earn it."

"Earn it?" Draco echoed, the words a faint whispering sound. 

"Mmm, and I'm a hard taskmaster, but a fair one. You want more of this?" Harry twisted the wand, ever so slightly, his eyes dark and slumberous when Draco gently bucked, a whimper breaking across his lips. "Answer me, Draco. Out loud. You want more of your wand?"

"... _yes..._ "

"Ah, marvellous." Harry beamed over at Sirius, who after watching all this was beginning to feel his own prick stir to life once more. "He _is_ trainable, Sirius. Isn't that good news? I wonder just what tricks we can teach him... but for tonight..." Harry's teeth glinted as he smiled still wider. "I think I'd most enjoy hearing some truth come out of his Slytherin mouth for once. So, repeat after me, Draco. _I want more wand._ "

Harry moved the wand in a teasing manner, promising but not delivering a rush of pleasure. 

Draco sucked in a breath, clearly trying to resist. Trying, and failing. Well, Sirius could hardly fault him for that. He knew how... intense... one of Harry's moods could be. "... I want more wand," Draco finally groaned.

Harry rewarded him with the slightest of motions, just enough to brush his prostrate but not satisfy it. "I want to be fucked by my own wand," he prompted, making a kissing motion directed at Sirius. 

"I want to be fucked by my own wand," gasped Draco, his hips bucking more openly by then. 

"Perhaps restraints," mused Harry, which had the other man stilling at once. "Well, well. You want to be fucked by your own wand. Like this? Or _this?_ " 

Draco writhed, and almost screamed in pleasure, which only prompted Harry to cease all movement. "You're coming along, though the full truth is surely closer to, _I want Harry Potter to make me come on my own wand,_ yes?"

"Yes," panted Draco, fingers clawing at the sheets, his face almost crimson by then, but not with shame. It was pure physical stress, Harry pushing his body to its limit of endurance. "Yes, yesyes... I want Harry Potter to make me come on my wand, yes..." His voice acquired an edge of desperation that matched the sheen of sweat filming his forehead. "Please, Potter, _pleeeeeeassssse....._ "

"Harry," corrected the other man. "I told you I don't like to be on a last-name basis with my fuck-toys. You need to learn to listen when I talk. And you are my fuck-toy, aren't you, Draco?"

"Y- yes, yes..."

"Yes, _Harry_."

"Yes, Harry."

Harry licked his lips and swivelled the wand ever so slightly. "Yes, Harry, I'm your fuck-toy."

"Yes, Harry, I'm your fuck-toy!" Draco shouted, face scarlet with need and humiliation both.

"I want you to sink your long, gorgeous cock in me, right up to the balls," prompted Harry, his eyes beginning to go glassy with desire. Or perhaps merely power, Sirius reflected. It was a potent aphrodisiac for Harry these days, and this particular situation, Draco Malfoy with his arse hoisted high into the air, writhing and begging for Harry to grant him release...

Sirius hadn't been touched by Voldemort's lust for power, and even _he_ could see the appeal, so he could hardly imagine how Harry felt to have Draco like this.

"I... I can't say _that_ ," Draco moaned, some of his pride reasserting itself. Sirius could have told him it was too late for that. 

"Mmm, yes you can," said Harry in a soothing voice as he began pumping the wand in and out, long slow strokes that deliberately missed the prostate... Sirius could tell. "Because it's true, isn't it? You know how good this can be... if I _want_ to make it good for you, Draco. But I think I might..."

Inch by inch, Harry withdrew the wand, playfully slapping Draco's firm buttocks each time he tried to lunge back to hold onto it. Tossing the wand to the side, he positioned his weeping cock at Draco's inviting hole and pressed against it, just enough to tease.

"Please," Draco begged, the word sounding as though it had been torn loose from his soul.

Harry bounced against his entrance, setting up a rhythm that was pure torture. "You have to ask for it," he gently reminded the other man.

"I... I... I want you to sink your beautiful cock deep in me, right to the balls--"

Before Draco had even reached the word _cock_ , Harry had pushed forward past the ring of tight muscle guarding the entrance, and sheathed himself fully. Right to the balls, just as Draco had begged.

"Fuck, fuck, _fuck,_ " Draco gasped, the word rushing over his lips every time he exhaled.

Pausing where he was, Harry glanced over Draco's back at Sirius. "Is that just an incoherent exclamation, do you think, or is he trying to tell me something?"

Sirius slipped off the bed so he could more easily put his face on a level with Draco's, then stared into the other man's glazed eyes. Draco looked consumed in sensuality--and it wasn't a look Padfoot had ever seen on his face, despite the many times he'd seen the man come.

Come screaming out Harry's name...

Clearly, Harry here had broken past some sort of limit Draco had imposed upon himself--or had imposed upon him--many years ago. Perhaps it all went back to that _Malfoys don't_ claim he'd tried to assert. _Malfoy's don't let themselves be taken. Malfoys are given head; they don't give it themselves..._

But Draco, Sirius was starting to realise, wanted to. Needed to...

And having _Harry_ in charge, demanding verbal and physical surrender... it was almost more fulfilment than Draco could stand at once.

Sirius stroked strands of blond hair away from Draco's sweaty face. "I think he's just now finding out he's a natural at this."

Harry pulled all the way out and slammed back in, causing Draco to yelp, the sound a devastating blend of pain and pleasure. "At what?" asked Harry as he began to set up a rhythm that was fierce and demanding. "Being fucked?"

Moving a finger down to caress Draco's cheek, Sirius smiled. "It's more general than that. I think he likes submission. Perfect for us..."

 _Perfect for you,_ is what he meant. _Perfect for that dark desire towards domination that became your secret legacy from all the violence of the war..._

Draco, Sirius thought, was beyond coherent speech. Certainly he was beyond understanding the conversation flowing around him. That, however, didn't make it any less true.

In fact, it proved the point.

As did Draco in the next moment, for when Sirius' stroking finger grazed across his parted lips, Draco arched his neck to reach for it, and sucked it into the warm cavern of his mouth, and began to suckle.

And all the while, he kept his fists knotted in the sheets, as motionless as though they'd been bound there, though no-one had told him to stay as still as that.

_A true submissive..._

"Up," Sirius ordered, his prick beginning to leak, he was so aroused. He'd wanted to enjoy the sight of Harry taking Draco for a good while longer... someday he would, he promised himself. Someday, he'd sit back in an easy chair, a glass of wine at his side, and stroke himself to completion while he watched Harry put Draco in his proper, rightful place. But that would have to wait until he was sated. 

Which might take a while.

But they did have years ahead of them, after all...

"Up!" Sirius said again, for Draco was so lost in a sensual haze that he hadn't registered the command. 

Harry placed both hands firmly on Draco's hips and stopped moving completely. "Obey, Draco. Up, now. Get on your hands."

Shaking, Draco finally submitted to the command. 

Sirius crawled up onto the bed then positioned himself so he was kneeling, his cock pointed straight at Draco's mouth. "Again, slut. Pleasure me again."

Harry started up his rhythm once more, though this time he swatted the top of Draco's arsecheeks each time he pulled out. "That was bad before, Draco, bringing Sirius off in the first five seconds. He wants to enjoy you more than that, and you cheated him. Cheat him again and you'll have me to answer to." With that, Harry landed a blow that was more pain than pleasure.

Draco's yelp that time was muffled, since his mouth was already stuffed to overflowing with the thick, needy length that was Sirius' cock.

"Hot, wet... oh, fuck yes," moaned Sirius. This time he didn't force his way down Draco's throat; he lay his cock atop that tongue so that the other man could take an active part in pleasing him. "Lick me, Draco. Learn the feel of me. Yeah, yeah, like that. A little tooth, not too much, you don't want Harry angry..."

Draco set to work, reluctantly at first, as though he felt it was wrong to comply, let alone enjoy the act of serving another man in this manner. 

"He needs motivation," gasped Sirius as he rubbed frantic circles over Draco's back.

Harry grinned and slammed in hard enough to make Draco's legs and lower back lift briefly from the sheets. 

Sirius felt rather than heard the resulting whimper.

Harry, though, seemed oblivious to the pain he'd caused. Or perhaps it was a case of it simply not being enough. " _Accio_ leash," he called and caught it as it sailed towards him. "I could transfigure this end into something nice," he panted as he kept up his fierce thrusting... as Draco kept whimpering around the cock lodged in his mouth. "A whip, perhaps. Bullwhip? Cat o' nine tails?"

Sirius shook his head, his mind racing for a way to manage Harry's darkness even as he secretly enjoyed the images spinning through his mind. It was too soon for games like that, though, and he knew it. Draco could probably be trained to them... but not tonight. 

"He lacks control," gasped Sirius, his hands communicating reassurance to the quaking man. His first time giving pleasure instead of simply taking. His first time with a cock in his arse... very nearly his first time with one in his mouth. Certainly, his first time sandwiched between two men who didn't see him as a vaunted Malfoy, but simply as Draco. Slut, submissive, _theirs_. Draco was very likely at his limit already, and pushing him too fast beyond them would do none of them any good. "He'll bite me clean through if you hurt him like that while he's sucking me," Sirius went on, even though he knew quite well it wasn't true. Draco was wearing the collar, after all. The collar charmed so it could not be removed by the wearer... the collar charmed so that the wearer could not possibly bite his owner. And Draco, Sirius thought, would have registered by now that both men using him were his owner.

"True," lamented Harry, slowing his frantic pace then. "That can wait until he knows how to handle himself under the whip, I suppose." One thrust, two... as Draco awkwardly licked and sucked at the prick in his mouth... trying to please, Sirius thought, but without much real sense of how to go about it. Motivation, that was it...

"Give him what he begged for, I meant," said Sirius as he reached down and used a thumb to pry Draco's mouth open a little bit wider. " _Pleasure._ "

"Oh, that." Harry pulled on the leash, still in his hand, causing Draco's neck to arch back a little bit. 

The angle was better for Sirius, though probably not so much for Draco. 

"You think he's earned it? I said he had to earn it," taunted Harry.

"Draco, lick my underside from base to tip, the way I used to do you," rasped Sirius, and when the man at once complied, he slanted a glance at Harry. "He's earning it right now. Oh fuck yes, that's better..."

Harry smiled, and lunged in at a different angle, though he slowed his approach just before his balls hit home, Sirius saw. The better to tease Draco's most sensitive spot...

He could tell the exact moment when Harry's cock slipped past it. Draco's throat muscles relaxed, his mouth opening wider of its own accord this time, his tongue beginning to move in a rhythm that echoed his own burgeoning pleasure. His licks became more sensuous, more enthusiastic, the pressure of his mouth all around enough to make Sirius come almost at once... but he managed to hold off, since he thought Harry probably meant it about punishing Draco for not making this last. 

No doubt about it now, though. Draco wasn't just a natural submissive, he was a natural cocksucker as well, though he needed to be in a haze of need before it became apparent.

With training, though, that could probably be changed...

"He's _good,_ " Sirius moaned out loud, catching Harry's gaze. "Oh yeah, he's _really_ good at this. Keep on pleasing him, Harry, that's the ticket..."

So Harry did, arching into Draco at just the angle that would make the blond man best serve Sirius... again, and again, and again.

It was too much, too good. Sirius suddenly knew he was going to shoot... which was a real shame, since he wanted this to last... wanted it quite desperately. That, more than a concern for Harry's temper, was what prompted him to do the only thing he could think of to stave off his imminent climax. 

And really, after all the times he'd crouched as Padfoot and had to service this man... well, Draco really did deserve it.

With a moan that soon turned into a feral growl, Sirius called upon the power deep inside himself and changed to Padfoot, his cock transforming into dogcock Draco suddenly sputtered on, and tried to spit out. 

Padfoot shoved his front paws down on Draco's back to balance himself, his claws connecting slightly with the welt Harry had left there, and shoved his way forcibly back in, thrusting fiercely past teeth and lips until the enormous knob at the base of his dogcock was firmly seated inside Draco's mouth.

And Draco had no way to dislodge it.

In panic and desperation, Draco flailed, balancing himself on one hand, the other reaching up to push and shove and claw, but it was no use. Of course it wasn't. Dogs weren't in the habit of stopping half-way through. Padfoot pushed in deeper, rocking his lower body, shoving a furry belly against Draco's face as he insisted on his pleasure.

Draco tried to bite, but since the collar couldn't throw him away from Padfoot, it started choking him instead. 

Draco went into some sort of frenzy then. A thick, oozing dogcock down his throat, the collar constricting his ability to breathe, he struggled like a man possessed. 

Harry curled a lip in disdain and began to mutter a spell that would transfigure the leash into a whip, one with a cutting edge.

Padfoot shook his shaggy head and barked twice, his limpid eyes telling what he wanted. 

Harry sighed and dropped the leash. "Oh, very well, you hound. You really are too soft-hearted. Sooner or later I'm going to do it, you know... but for now..." He began rubbing Draco's lower back, then, his large hands gentle on that smooth skin, his own thrusts into Draco's backside slowing to something soothing. "Shhh, Draco. Shhh... I know it's hard, but you have to calm yourself. You have to relax." Reaching forward past where Padfoot's paws were clamped to Draco's back, Harry tapped the collar to loosen it. "There, you see? It's all right. We're just going to have some fun, Padfoot and I, and you're our toy. But you agreed to that, remember? You said you wanted to be my fuck-toy. And I share my toys, Draco... I share everything with Sirius. Or Padfoot..."

Draco stilled, wheezing in a breath through his nose, managing to suck the air past the obstruction in his throat.

Harry kept moving in and out in a tender, gentle motion, his hands returning to caress Draco's back in circles as he went on speaking. "Yes, you'll be servicing Padfoot too. You'll get used to it, Draco. You'll learn to love it. And after all, it's only fair, isn't it? How many times did Padfoot drink down every last drop of what you had on offer?" Harry thrust in a little more urgently, then, his words coming in heated little gasps. "Go on, suck him. Suck him like he did you all those times. Make him howl..." Harry's hands moved to grip Draco's hips. "Don't make him _take_ you, Draco. Show him what _you_ can do. Drive him wild..."

Padfoot growled low in his throat as he felt Draco's tongue and mouth at last begin to work again, working to please, to suck and lick and tease. He had Harry to thank for it, he knew. Harry, whose own lips were parted, his green eyes half-closed as he thrust and thrust and thrust, no doubt hitting Draco's prostate each and every time.

And all the while, Draco laboured to please and serve the dog he'd held captive these many months.  

The height was all wrong, of course. Padfoot was standing on his hind legs, straining upwards, a position he couldn't long maintain. With another growl he flopped forward, his upper body crashing down to lay atop Draco's back.

He felt the scream the man made when his welt was abused yet again. But Padfoot cared less about that than Sirius would have. Primal instinct had a hold on him now, his canine mind far less able than his human one to appreciate another's pain. 

"Suck him dry," Harry gasped as he pulled back his hips. 

Padfoot inched his head forward a little bit, until his cheek was resting on the small of Draco's back, and he could see Harry's glistening cock each time it eased out and sank back in. His tongue lolled out in appreciation, and as Harry reached forward to pet him, his straining dogcock reached its absolute limit.

He began to come, pumping rush after rush of thick creamy fluid into Draco's mouth, his eyes rolling back in his head in a way that Harry was sure to recognize.

"Drink it," Harry rasped, though of course Draco had very little chance of doing anything else. That bulge at the base of Padfoot's cock wouldn't soften until Padfoot finished, and until it did, Draco was well and truly stuck in place. 

Padfoot kept coming... oh, sometimes it was _so_ nice to be a dog; orgasms lasted simply forever. Draco swallowed once, twice, then began to sputter in some sort of pointless, incoherent protest. Padfoot clawed his back, and felt the objection subside, felt Draco swallowing again and again, then, the sensation magnificent. He kept pumping, and Draco kept drinking it all down, and Harry gave Padfoot his fingers to suck on as he once more set up that smooth in-and-out tempo that meant he was caressing Draco's prostate.

Draco screamed around the dogcock lodged in his mouth, and bucked his hips.

"Oh yes," said Harry, reaching out with his other hand to tousle the hair on Padfoot's head. Padfoot shuddered, and finally finished coming, whining as his orgasm slowed to a trickle and then halted. After that, he was content to simply rest his head on Draco's back and watch with sleepy eyes as Harry slid back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. 

"Lick him clean," Harry moaned, the sound almost gutteral. "Balls, too, now--"

And Draco did, breathy little gasps escaping him the moment his mouth was free to talk. "Harry.... Harry...."

Once his cock and balls were wonderfully clean, Padfoot rolled off of Draco and lay down near his side, his head alongside Harry's knees so he could enjoy the sight of Harry using Draco, Harry taking his pleasure. 

" _Mmmm,_ " Harry moaned, his fingers grasping Draco's hips, his cheeks flushed as he sank himself to the balls and held the position, rocking against Draco without withdrawing. Draco bucked again, needing more, but Harry held on, biting his lips in concentration as he listened to Draco's pleading cries.

Padfoot transformed back into a man then, his human hand reaching beneath Draco's belly so he might squeeze an orgasm from the man's cock.

"No," said Harry, grabbing Sirius' hand before the man could take hold of Draco. "Slut can come on my cock--"

Draco threw back his head, tossing it wildly from side to side, and moaned. " _Please,_ Harry... _please..._ "

Rising up on his knees, Sirius leaned forward over Draco's buttocks and kissed Harry long and hard as Harry pumped steadily in and out of Draco's body and Draco begged.

"Next time," Sirius promised in a whisper as he finally broke off the kiss. "He can come on your cock next time. This time, he needs help."

"Like I needed help? Like when the Dementors made me faint?" Harry jerked his hips in a vicious thrust, making Draco babble out some half-coherent apology for crimes long since passed.

"You can whip him for that later," Sirius said, curling an arm around Harry to hold him. "But we want him to want this, Harry, to want to do it again..."

"He'll do it again on my say so," rasped Harry, nails curling into Draco's hips, leaving little rows of scarlet crescents. "Whenever I want-- _Slut--_ "

"Yes, he will." Sirius swallowed and tried again. "He _is._ And he needs to submit... to you in particular, I think. He'll do anything you say. But Harry... _I'll_ enjoy this much, much more if he does as well."

"You would," said Harry rather sourly as he pressed himself in deeper.

"Think of it as an extra measure of his humiliation," soothed Sirius, kissing Harry again. 

"Oh, go on..."

Reaching down, Sirius wrapped a steady hand around Draco's cock and pumped it three times.

That was all it took; Draco exploded then, babbling out his gratitude just before he collapsed, his hands and knees at last giving way. 

Harry ground in deeper, harder, wringing a scream from the other man, a long keening noise of pleasure that seemed to drive him over the edge. Setting up a pounding, merciless rhythm, Harry fucked like a man possessed, his lips drawn back in a snarl when he finally arched his back and came.

Finished, he fell atop Draco and lay still, letting seconds stretch out into minutes. Enjoying his victory, Sirius thought. For it had indeed been one. Perhaps more of one, Sirius decided, than he could ever fully understand.

After a few moments of basking in the afterglow, Harry waved Sirius away from him, gesturing that he should get dressed. Then he rolled off Draco and sat on the bed, cross-legged. Yanking Draco around rather roughly, he forced the other man to face him. "Clean me the way you cleaned Padfoot."

Draco was lost in a haze, the force of his own orgasm still clearly draining him, but he wasn't so far gone as to miss the implications of Harry's abrupt command. "But you're... you were.... you were in my..."

"Yes, I know. You think I don't know where my prick has been for the past half-hour, Draco? I'm dirty and I don't much like being dirty. Now _lick me clean!_ "

When Draco still didn't make a move to do so, Harry inched his fingers toward the collar.

And Draco fell forward in defeat, his mouth opening to tongue the mess from Harry's spent prick. 

Sirius didn't like what he was seeing, but he didn't interfere. After all, he had offered Harry Draco's humiliation, had offered it as a bribe to keep Harry balanced... and he couldn't take that back now.

"You've messed your bed," said Harry when Draco finally finished and pulled back. "There." He pointed to the pooling semen, most of it absorbed by then into the sheets. "Clean that as well."

Draco didn't try to fight the order that time. He simply shuffled backwards slightly and dipped his head, his tongue making a sweeping motion as he licked up his own spilled seed.

"Suck it out of the fabric," Harry harshly whispered.

And Draco did. 

"Now, lay down on your back," said Harry in a milder tone, his darkness appeased for the moment, though Sirius knew it would come surging back. With Draco to vent it on, though, perhaps it would be easier than ever to keep Harry balanced. "My godfather and I have to decide your exact fate. You'll stay quiet, Draco." Harry suddenly laughed. "Get your hands off your prick! My God, you came before I got here, and again not five minutes past, and you're eager for more? Was it licking me that got to you? I suppose Sirius is right and you really are a submissive little slut."

Draco looked as though he'd make a haughty objection to that, but in the end he said nothing.

The silence spoke volumes.

"So, Sirius," said Harry as he donned his robes and buttoned them neatly up. "It seemed you had an idea earlier? _Like a good dog,_ I think you said?"

Sirius settled down into a comfortable chair and glanced over to where Draco was holding himself tensely, listening to every word. "Oh, I was just teasing--"

"Well, I'm _not_ ," said Harry. "I think it's a good idea. Solves a number of problems. For holding you captive he deserves at least  years of punishment, and it will be quite tedious to keep him under lock and key. Even as a squib I imagine he'll attempt some mischief. And too, unless I keep him completely out of sight he'd be a bit hard to explain. Too prominent, his face too well known, and you know how often we get high-placed visitors, Sirius."

"Yes...."

"So, that's that. He'll be easier to manage as a dog." 

"A _dog?_ " roared Draco, sitting straight up. 

"Shut up," said Harry calmly, waving his wand to enforce it. Draco found himself with a bright rubber ball gag thrust in his mouth, the strap buckled securely around the back of his head. 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, his mind racing over the possibilities. A pet might help keep Harry balanced... "That's certainly a novel idea..."

Harry's eyes twinkled. "A capital idea, I think you mean. I'd have been here sooner, but he really did seem fond of you, so I thought you'd be all right while I visited the animal registry and set everything up." With that, Harry drew a folded paper from his robes and brandished it. Sirius recognized it as a certificate of animal ownership. _Already embossed with the Ministry seal,_ though it was still lacking the animal's name and paw print the Ministry required.

Well, it wouldn't be the first time Harry had used his smile and his name to get around regulations. 

"There's a certain divine justice in what you propose," admitted Sirius. "But..." He lowered his voice. "You do realise, in that case, tonight will end up being the last time we'll ever... _ah_ , enjoy him together, so to speak..." 

Harry laughed. "Oh, Sirius, really! Draco might have intended to keep you forever trapped in your dog form, but we're much better men than he is. We'll allow him to be human occasionally, as long as he earns the privilege. If he's a good dog, that is, and learns his tricks and licks our cocks properly whenever we say..."

Sirius grinned, liking the sound of this more and more. 

"And he _is_ prominent as I said," continued Harry, "so there might be times we need him to make an appearance at this function or that, or need his signature on something, I suppose, so I'll let him be a man at those times too."

"Make him sign over a large donation to the war orphans."

"Oh, of course."

Draco was shaking his head to register his objection to the entire plan, muffled noises of protest escaping past the gag. "Oh, _do_ shut up," Harry told him. "Or I'll choke you for a good minute, maybe two."

As Draco went obediently silent, Harry grinned at Sirius. "It's not as though he's had no experience at the animal life. He was a ferret for a short while. And if memory serves, he was really _quite_ relieved when that ended. So I imagine he'll be willing to be _very_ cooperative when you and I want another threesome like tonight. Because after all, if we don't enjoy having him be a human, well then he won't get to be one very often, will he?"

Harry jumped to his feet. "So that's it then. A marvellous plan, even if I do say so myself. Draco, you'll come here. Crawl, on your hands and knees. Because that's what you like, isn't it? Sirius was right..."

Unable or unwilling to admit to that, Draco glared and shook his head. 

Harry sighed rather theatrically. "Well, I am an Auror and you are in fact a criminal. The only other course open to me... now that I've _Accioed_ your magic, of course... is the usual one. _Obliviate,_ because I just don't care to have my very special powers known throughout the wizarding world, and then I'll dump you off somewhere far, far away so you can start your new life as a squib. All your assets will be forfeit, of course. And as for you... no skills, no education any Muggle could make sense of, nothing to trade on except your pretty face... well, it's fairly obvious what line of work you'll fall into. Would you prefer that to being my own personal pet and whore?"

As though Draco's decision didn't matter in the least, Harry walked to Sirius and kissed him for a long moment, then added conversationally. " _Or_ , you stay with us, and on my terms. And when some span of years has passed... when I think you've learnt your lesson and won't make any more trouble for me... well _then_ , Draco, I just might give your life back. Your life and magic both. Your choice."

Sirius placed his hands on Harry's shoulders. "You can do that?"

"Oh, I expect so," drawled Harry. "If I care to." Turning, he challenged Draco with a stare. "Well? Last chance."

Draco slid from the bed and crawled on hands and knees to where his two masters stood, embracing one another.

"Good," breathed Harry, reaching down to pet the other man's head as though he were a dog already. His hands quite gentle then, he unfastened the strap behind Draco's head and pulled the ball gag from his mouth. Draco licked his lips, but didn't speak.

"Oh, good boy," Harry praised him. "I'll get you some lovely doggy treats, I promise. And you'll have the run of my garden, though of course your collar will be charmed so you can't leave the grounds. Or hide, I think. Yes, no hiding. When Sirius or I want services, you'll come running, yes?"

Draco clenched his eyes shut and bowed his head in submission as he nodded. 

"So, that's it then," announced Harry brightly, his mood improving with every evidence of Draco's shame and suffering. "Hmm, you know more about dogs than I do, Sirius. Any ideas?"

Sirius suddenly cleared his throat. "Well, since you're asking.... He promised Padfoot a bitch, Harry. A nice furry bitch to fuck.   
Went on and on about her glossy coat... drove me right round the bend. So, perhaps a female dog, Harry... if you wouldn't mind?"

"Oh, now _that's_ quite a notion," approved Harry, smiling wickedly. "Well then, Draco, I suppose you'd better play with your prick while you still have one. Unless you've changed your mind and you'd prefer to be dropped off in Brazil to be a short-lived squib whore?"

Tears oozed from Draco's eyes as he shook his head, defeated.

"A minute ago you wanted to finger yourself," taunted Harry. "What's the matter?"

When Draco said nothing, Harry's voice grew harder. "You need to recognise a suggestion when you're given one. Do it, Draco. Now."

His eyes bleak, Draco took himself in both hands and stroked his cock until he came all over his own belly and thighs. 

"Didn't take long at all," said Harry, reaching down to cup Draco's wet cheeks between his palms. "Be honest with yourself for once, Draco. You don't want to be my dog, let alone a bitch for Padfoot to fuck... but you were thinking about it when you came, weren't you?"

Draco pressed his lips together and remained mute.

"You'll admit it someday," Harry only said. He performed the incantation then, a transfiguration so strong and firmly anchored that it would stay in place no matter how much time elapsed, waving his wand to and fro as he forged Draco into just the sort of dog he wanted. Long, floppy ears. Beautiful golden hair. Silver eyes. Squat little legs and a tail to match. 

When it was all done, Harry adjusted the collar to fit, and reminded his new pet that it would punish him most severely if ever he tried to bite any of his masters. And he had three, Harry explained. Himself, Sirius, and Padfoot. 

After a small paw print was dutifully transferred to the ownership certificate, all that remained was to decide upon a name. "I rather like Draco," lamented Harry, "though I suppose it will sound a tiny bit odd to people, especially since your public appearances--well, human ones, anyway--are going to be few and far between. Hmm, people will say that Draco Malfoy's  become a recluse just like Severus... At any rate, I think I'll save the name of _Draco_ for when we let you be a man again. For whippings and fuckings, yes. That seems very proper."

"So, another name," mused Sirius. "Fifi?" 

Draco yipped twice.

"Oh, that means no," laughed Sirius. "And after all he's not like a poodle, but more like some sort of mixed-breed..."

"Mutt," announced Harry.

"Yes, I thought that was a stroke of brilliance, after all his pretensions over his precious pure blood, to make him nothing but a mongrel."

"It was," agreed Harry. "But I meant that Mutt would do well for his name."

Again, Draco yipped twice.

Harry lifted him by the scruff of his neck, bringing him clear to eye level, something he couldn't do with Padfoot who was so much larger. But his new pet was of a far more manageable size. Adorable, in fact. Sirius truly doubted that Harry had it in him to abuse such an animal, though he had _no_ doubt that Draco would continue to suffer whenever he was allowed to resume his human form. Interesting... perhaps in time Draco would come to prefer his dog-life to any other. 

"You think you get a say, Mutt?" Harry was saying, but when he heard himself, he frowned. "I suppose that is a rather masculine name, and you _aren't,_ are you now.... so... Muffy, yes. That'll do nicely. You'll be Muffy from here on out."

Sirius choked back a laugh; Muffy, in contrast, said nothing at all.

Harry wrote the name in with a flourish and applied a drying spell before pocketing the certificate. "Good. That's all settled, then. Let's go home." Picking up the dog, he handed her to Sirius. "I have a feeling Padfoot still has a bit of a score to settle, eh? So when we get home, you go ahead and fuck her just as much as you like. Then you bring her along to me. I'd like to compare her cocklicking technique to Padfoot's. You can watch, give her pointers..." Harry laughed. "Oh, this will be fun. Imagine, we can have Ron and Hermione over for dinner, and Muffy can be trained to eat from all our hands... Can you see her begging Hermione for scraps? Oh, the possibilities are endless..." 

Harry grabbed Sirius in a hug, the dog between them, and Apparated the three of them home, where Muffy learned to be a bitch and like it.

But that, alas, is another story.

 

~fin~


End file.
